Advance Wars Days of Ruin
by Trainalf
Summary: In a world destroyed, soldiers still fight on. Against hunger, against sickness, against others, and against themselves as they fight for a better future. But for some, they have to discover what that future is. OC centric story. Rated M for violence, language and disturbing content. No longer accepting OCs. Earlier chapters currently under renovation.
1. Prologue

This is a rewrite of a fic I was previously working on. It was a great big mess, so I decided to start over and try again. This is a OC centric story, in case some people aren't interested in such works, but it will feature the game's characters often as possible. In the style of Erin Hunter and Harry Turtledove, there are brief bios at the end of the chapter to help you gain a picture of the main cast of original characters.

Update (August 2014): This prologue, as well as Chapters One and Two, have been modified, improved, and reposted as part of a broad effort to improve the quality of the story's earlier chapters.

X A forest in the wooded mountains of eastern Lazuria, date unknown. X

The Lazurian Federation had long been considered one of the super powers of the modern world, and had been influential even five hundred years ago while it was still a monarchy. Located in the northern hemisphere, the country was generally cold all year long, and more than half its land seemed to be always covered in snow. The land was rugged and heavily forested, with dozens of mountain ranges stretching hundreds of miles across the land. In the country's far west, the land broke up into hundreds of little islands, the waters between them usually frozen. Despite this rugged terrain, a country had been founded and flourished.

Agricultural seasons were short, but the country's population of half a billion was entirely self-sustaining, partly due to a massive fishing industry. It drew its wealth and influence from the large amount of oil deposits in its frozen north, and from mineral deposits in its many mountains, as well as its position bordering a channel that connected two seas and two halves of the world together. Billions of dollars' worth of trade goods came by and stopped at its ports, bringing to the country wealth and prosperity. Ironically, this very advantage had brought the country to war several centuries ago, and most recently just a year before.

Now, the country was little more than a dead, pitiful husk of what it had been. Its cities and ports were decayed, collapsed, and abandoned, slowly being reclaimed by Nature. Its agricultural land was dead. Entire mountains had collapsed, and even after a year large swaths of forest remained in ashes. These were not the effects of war, but of Nature. Just a year ago, meteors had fallen upon the Earth and threw humanity to near extinction.

Unfortunately, even near extinction couldn't alter human character, and war had soon engulfed this part of the world, destroying much of what little Mother Nature had spared in her wrath. The fighting had been fierce at first, with men and machines pitted against one another, only to decrease into smaller clashes between men who no longer had machines to use. The war had reached its climax a few days earlier, and many of the survivors had thought—many had hoped—that it would be the end. But that was not the case. The war continued on.

It found itself confined to a small point in Lazuria, a massive mountain range 100 miles north of the coast and 150 miles west of its eastern borders. A massive military base had been built into four connected valleys. That was where one of the combatants had retreated, and that was where their enemies were heading as well.

The dense fog covering the mountains did little to inhibit the force moving through it. Large, modern tanks cruised along a decaying road, with the tank commanders standing in the cupolas to see where they were going. Other armored vehicles—APCs, Humvees, and anti-air vehicles—cruised beside or behind the tanks. And far behind them came several companies of infantrymen, their senses on the edge. There was a slight eager bound in their step, like an animal hunting for wounded prey. In fact, that was exactly what they were doing. They were hunting a wounded enemy: newly-minted traitors and life-long enemies.

Several soldiers shivered from the cold that was commonly associated with Lazuria, though some shivered for other reasons. Most of the men cast weary looks to the dark peaks around them, and several tanks pointed their cannons at clusters of trees as they passed. The woods and the mountains gave off a tense atmosphere, and more than one soldier could swear that they were being watched. Indeed, they were being watched, watched by the battlefield's native inhabitants. And like them, the inhabitants were hell-bent on revenge.

X A mountain valley in eastern Lazuria. X

In the furthest corner of the southwestern most valley sat a military command center. Tired men in red uniforms stood alertly outside, their eyes straining to see more than a few feet in front of them in this hostile environment. The rustling of the cold wind was the only sound around them.

Inside the building was a different noise; it was one of pure chaos. The situation seemed to be confined so far inside the building's communication room. Men were yelling, shouting, and shoving each other while trying to compile and gather information. Others were trying to give orders only to be challenged in return. Most of the men were military officers in red combat uniforms, but there were other officers in blue uniforms who had imposed themselves among the tangle, loudly and forcefully trying to accomplish the same tasks. In particular, one red-haired woman in blue had to be held back to stop her from strangling an officer clad in red.

Other men in blue hung near the edge of the room, unsure of their place. Among them was a calm and collected-looking man with blue hair who observed the fighting with disapproval, but it was obvious in his pose that he wasn't quite ready to interfere yet. Instead, he kept his hands firmly on the sniper rifle he was carrying. If it came to more than blows being exchanged, he would decisively interfere and bring calm to the situation so something could actually be accomplished. _Tasha is just being herself, after all. She'll come around._

Outside the room, two sentries peered in nervously, unsure if they should intervene. As a thin shadow passed through them, they both snapped to attention. "Lieutenant Lin!" Both saluted the black-haired woman as she stood before them in her red uniform. Her impassive face looked right past the pair as she stalked into the communications room and walked straight into the fray.

Many of the officers clad in red were of equal rank as she was, and only a few outranked her as captains. The blue-clad officers included not only lieutenants and captains, but several majors and a colonel as well. Even the calm-faced man with a sniper rifle wore the stars of a general on his uniform. Upon seeing Lin enter, the officers stopped arguing at once.

"I wasn't aware that the officers of the Rubinelle Armed Forces were so unprofessional," she said as she looked coldly at her fellow officers in red, and then she turned to face the officers in blue. "Neither did I expect the officers of the Lazurian Armed Forces to be the same as well." Many of them bristled at what they perceived was an insult from a person of inferior rank, although they kept their silence. The officers now expressed their hostility towards each other through glares and quiet snarls.

"Anyone who refuses to cooperate contributes directly to our defeat," Lieutenant Lin continued, her words further tearing down the anger both sides had felt. "We've... lost a lot in the past few hours." Her stoic image faltered for a split second that no noticed. "But we are in a spot where we need to cooperate. The enemy is here."

"But who will lead our forces?" One of the officers in blue—a Lazurian major of tank troops—heatedly asked. "This is _our_ land!"

"We have more men! One of us should lead! Only we can save the _Rodina_!" Another shouted in agreement. And again the room descended back into chaos. Lieutenant Lin watched them argue while trying to rein in her temper. The blue-haired man left his spot by the wall and approached her.

"General Gage, isn't it?" Lieutenant Lin asked. He nodded.

"What's the situation?" Lin knew that the only news that had been spread was that the enemy had found them, and not much else.

"We left a platoon of infantry as a covering force in the northern valley, but we lost all transmissions from them shortly after they began reporting a possible enemy contact. The enemy is less than ten miles from us."

"Strength?" Gage asked emotionlessly.

"Nearly a full brigade. They don't have air support, but they do have armor and artillery. I'm pretty sure that the attack on the northern valley is merely a probing maneuver; they'll try to take us out through a pincer move, but they haven't studied the terrain— it is practically impassable to armor," Lin said in reply, "but if they break through the pass in the valley east of us, we're done for," She could not have said it more bluntly.

"We have a small store of equipment here," Gage informed her," and we could use it." _This was originally a fall back position from Fort Lazruria__… _"But there remains the issue of command. He didn't make it, correct?" There was nearly a half a minute pause where both officers stared impassively at each other.

"That's right," Lin nodded, "but both of our naval forces managed to escape together. We don't know if we'll ever be able to meet up with them again, although we did have enough time to get here. It'll work as a good defensive position as long as we cooperate." Both officers paused to look at their subordinates, who were still arguing heatedly among themselves. "If not, both the 12th Battalion and Lazuria will cease to exist tomorrow."

X A forest in the northern valley. X

I wasn't sure where the blow had come from that woke me. I wasn't even immediately sure where I was, or even who I was. I struggled weakly against the blackness threatening to drown me. My head felt heavy and the salty taste of blood filled my mouth. I tried to move, but couldn't.

"Wakey, wakey," a voice taunted. Rough hands shook my head. My eyes jerked open and I found myself staring into the cold, hard eyes of a bearded man in a heavy uniform compared to my own, which had became ragged and torn from the recent fighting. "Welcome back," the man jeered. One look at the patch on his shoulder instantly brought my mind back to reality.

I was Sergeant James Coleman of the 18th Heliborne Brigade of the Rubinelle Army. _The old Rubinelle Army._ And I had just been captured by the enemy and tied up. I felt my blood boil as the memories from the last few months of my life and the knowledge of who these animals were came back into my mind.

"Fuck you," I snarled as I stared into the bastard's eyes without flinching. There was no escaping to the sanctuary of unconsciousness; we were all in our enemy's hands. But I hadn't caved up to this point, and I wasn't going to now, especially to these people. They'd captured us, and they wanted to play with us. _Tough luck for them._

"Pfft, big words for the man tied to the tree," the soldier remarked, prodding me with his M9 pistol. I kept glaring at him. He had a point; there was nothing we could do from our position. But I'd never folded, and I wouldn't now either.

_A soldier doesn't give in._ It was the first coherent thought I'd formed since regaining consciousness. The pounding in my head made it hard to form any other thoughts.

"Your mom liked being tied down while she was taking it up the ass. Hahaha!" A familiar voice taunted from somewhere I couldn't see. Whoever it was, he reminded me that I wasn't alone. I couldn't help grinning.

"Shut the fuck up!" Another soldier ordered. There was a scream, which was followed by the sound of bones being broken. I was worried for a moment, but then relaxed when the voice continued.

"Your sister liked it too! Just kept begging and begging…" It was the same voice, just slightly disoriented. There was another growl, which was accentuated by a punch from the mercenary. I laughed in approval.

"Good one, man, good one," I laughed weakly. Even in the face of absolute death while being tied to a tree, Sam was always able to crack a morbid joke. And for once it was appropriate. He tried to say something, but it all came out in a jumble of sounds. His entire face must've been broken by now. After the last three months, we all were broken to some degree.

"Both of you shut up," the lead soldier demanded. He turned back to me. "You know what? I don't like you. If it wasn't for you bastards, I could be getting wasted in a bar right now. Or getting laid. But no, we got to grab our boots and chase after you. Why'd you do it? What was going through your tiny little heads when you decided to grab the prisoners and run? It was almost over. We'd finally won!" So, that was why they'd captured us instead of killing us outright? They wanted answers? _Well, tough luck, asshole._

"Orders are orders. It was the right thing to do, but you wouldn't know that, seeing as you're just an opportunist bastard," I retorted. He laughed.

"Hey, it beats the alternative." He laughed again before sinking his fist into my gut. I coughed violently and sunk down. The chains keeping me against the tree dug painfully into my wrist. I pushed myself back up though.

"If you think I'm going to beg," I said as I tried to avoid coughing, "forget it. I've done my duty. We've seen everything, and we know everything: the massacres, the war crimes, everything. You're in the wrong here." He snorted in reply.

"Like we give a damn. It was necessary. We did what we did for the better good, traitor." The soldier spit on me before walking off to another tree where another familiar-looking soldier was bound. He looked ragged under the uniform, but I could still recognize him. I felt a slight pang of worry.

"Don't let him get to you, Peter!" I called out wearily. My brother slowly looked up.

"I'll be fine, James." He was as calm and collected as he had always been. That was my younger brother all right...

"Quiet!" The soldier punctuated his order with a hard punch on the side of the head. He stared at him for a few moments, breathing heavily out his nose. "I remember you: you were that field medic, and you led that raiding party that stole all that medical supplies. A lot of our people died because of that." That was funny; they pretended to care about their comrades.

"I don't regret it either," Peter said firmly. "It went to people actually worth saving. You didn't deserve it." The soldier paced in front of him. After the fifth time, he turned and grabbed Peter's neck violently. He leaned in.

"You little shit; I should kill you right now!" He put his pistol under Peter's chin as he said it. Then he backed up and paced around for a moment longer. He looked at all his other men, who were gathered around the small clearing. "We've wasted enough time with these pricks; the rest of the brigade is going to leave us behind." He turned to another soldier. "Go grab the gasoline from the Humvee; we're going to torch these bastards." He turned to us with a savage grin.

I guess they decided we weren't worth the hassle anymore. So, this was how I was going to die... Somehow, the thought didn't cause any panic. Maybe I was just too tired to care or to find a reason to fight, or maybe I was far too used to the idea by now. I managed to raise my head. Peter didn't seem the least bit phased by the news, either. A medic keeps a cool head to the end. Sam seemed too far out of reality, or maybe he had finally found enough courage to be quiet and accept things as they are.

I'm sure the rest of our depleted unit were out there, brave to the end. Maybe some were glad they'd be reunited with their perished comrades. There were certainly many of them now, waiting for us in the afterlife.

"I don't regret anything!" I spat at the mercenary. He recoiled and growled. "I've lived a good life." _And what matters is that the others will stay safe. _They were literally across an ocean, and they didn't know we were here. That was fine to me, even though I'd told them I'd come back. _I guess promises really are meant to broken._

The Soldier's Creed: I will protect, even if it costs my life. Even after all that happened, I could still say I was a solider...

X A military campsite in the southern valley. X

I sighed and put my hands in the face. What the fuck had happened? We were in deep shit, real deep. What were we going to do now? Life had been so much simpler to this point…well, simpler than it was now. And things had looked promising... All that effort... All that expectation... just up in smoke. And for the first time in my life I'd been optimistic. Goes to show how much THAT counted for. _Hope? Pfft. He was a good guy, but he sure got that wrong._

The tent flap opened and someone stepped inside. I glanced over her as she stopped to look at me, expecting me to say something. I felt some of the stress drop off my shoulders. The world was always easier with someone to share the suffering. _Misery does love its company._

"So, Sarah," I addressed my girlfriend, "how are the others? The ones who are left, anyway." Even though she hated it when I was a pessimist, she didn't comment. At least I was thinking about our fellow pilots.

"Well, Tim, they're cold, scared, restless, and they think they just helped install a dictator. No thanks to us, of course." I shrugged. We'd been the bearers of that particularly bad news. _We were in the wrong place at the wrong time._

"Well, we all kinda did," I shrugged. I tapped the edge of my cot nervously. Should I apologize? Even now I didn't get this morality stuff.

"Yeah, but now their nerves are shot. Even Stone is having trouble rallying them," she admitted. If that hard old bastard couldn't get it done, things were really bad; the Old Man had held everyone together since things went to hell.

"They've toughened up so much, and now it's like Day One. Wonderful," I muttered. "This fucking fog just makes things worse. Who the hell is going to go up in this weather besides us?" We barely had anyone left now; nearly the whole Air Wing had been blown to hell. It was just a miracle we were still here! _It's always us._

"The Lazurians brought some of their helicopters along. I saw them earlier. And I think I heard they had something stashed in this place." Sarah leaned up against the side of the tent, a hint of a frown on her face. Oh right, the blue bastards. It felt weird talking about people we'd recently spent our time trying to kill. But the whole point of the last few months of our lives had been spent forgetting our own personal problems recently, so why not let bygones be bygones? I wasn't ready to make friends with them, though.

"Let's just let them duke it out first; it is their fight," I pointed out. "Haven't we done enough fighting?"

"We have a moral obligation to fix what we caused." Counter point. That concept still was new to me, no matter how much she insisted on it.

"Is that what you want to do?"

"What do you want to do?" Like she had to ask; she always knew what I was thinking.

"Whatever it is you do," I said as I stood up and stretched. "We've been together for over twenty years now, and we've agreed to stay together until the end. We've lived together, suffered together, fought together. If so be it, we can die fighting together—even if it means an end to our ambitions." I saw her falter on that last bit. She'd planned for a lot when this war was over, and suddenly it was in full swing again. She recovered her composure quickly.

"Since when have you been one for poetry?"

"Since when have you always had a halo over your head?" I retorted. She laughed.

"I'll be completely honest: I have no idea what to do or where to go now. Usually, we've had at least a semi-clear direction and we knew what was waiting for us. But our last plan is entirely ruined now... I have no idea what's out there except for those bastards and their prick of a leader."

"I have no idea either…" I said as I rubbed my face. "That Greyfield guy is nuts. After that last stunt, he'll probably have us killed." What the hell was it about people going crazy in this world?

"Or Waylon will have us captured," she shuddered, which was a rare enough display, even for me. I couldn't blame her; that guy was nuts in his own way. And he already knew us; it was personal. _Hell, everything in the goddamn world worked against us!_

There was a brushing sound behind us as a soldier poked his head into the tent. His helmet was gone, replaced by a bloody bandage over his right eye. He turned his head inside the tent with a searching look on his face. I could see the relief on his face when he saw that we were still here. A lot of people had gotten the hell out of dodge after the prison break. Truthfully, I could sympathize with some of them. _But why are we still here?_

I glanced at Sarah and nodded, urging her on. She looked at the soldier. "We'll be along in a minute." The soldier nodded breathlessly and darted back outside. She turned to me and said, "Can we really leave them? They did help us out. Where would we be if we hadn't found them?" I knew the answer to that question wasn't good. And she was right, the _soldiers_ in the battalion had helped us.

"It's not them that I have a problem with; it's the people in charge, whoever the hell it is now. I mean: what the fuck kind of logic is that? We're saving the people we've been killing for the past two years? Seriously, what the fuck? We could've been home celebrating right now!" I threw my arms up.

"I don't like it either, but what other options do we have?" She sighed. "We don't _have_ to like them; we could just help our own guys." She had me right there. Choice was an illusion; Life always steered us somewhere. And this place was one of the worst yet.

"And how many of them are left?" I asked. Our guys had taken a hell of a beating defeating those people. It was all pretty damn pointless though, since they just saved their asses afterwards.

"I think about three hundred," she said as shook her head, "and nine hundred Lazurians." Outnumbered, just like always.

"Why don't we just let them get themselves killed and then step in?" I suggested. Our obligations to each other were the most important things in our lives, and they always had. If we had to go against the world for each other's sake, we would. I'd feel bad later, but I'd still do it.

"We personally witnessed what happened to their leader," she reminded me. A flashback of a defenseless old man being shot in the guts played in my mind.

_Bang!_

"Yeah…" I said uneasily. Damn, I guess we had contributed to that occurrence. Still, it wasn't like we'd intended for that to happen. We were victims, just as much as that Forsythe guy had been. "What obligations do we have to these people anymore? We shouldn't have any! We'd given enough of our lives to the military." Over a goddamn decade, in fact, and they still wanted to keep us.

"It still just doesn't seem right, Sarah." I shrugged. "We've been through some heavy shit in our life, but this is something entirely new. Even newer than the _other __thing_." Outside there was an explosion, followed by screaming and orders being flung left and right, which mercifully saved us from having to reflect on _it_.

"Well, they're here. We need to decide now. Kill, or be killed," I muttered.

How was it that we tried to do the right thing and ended up here instead? Weren't the good guys supposed to win? Reality was a bitch.

XX Character Bios for Advance Wars: Days of Ruin XX

**Private James H. Coleman**

Height: 5 foot 11

Eye color: Green

Hair color: Black

Age: 22

Bio: Born and raised in southern Rubinelle, he was encouraged to enlist when he realized how much security and hope soldiers provide to the people. He is currently a rifleman in the 18th Heliborne Brigade of the Rubinelle Army.

Personality: He is normally a very warm person. He tends to swear under stress or in the presence of someone he does not respect. He looks down heavily upon the uncivilized or arrogant. He also cares deeply for his brother.

**Private Peter B Coleman**

Height: 5 foot 9

Eye Color: Hazel

Hair Color: Black

Age: 21

Bio: Like his older brother, he was raised in southern Rubinelle with the same influences and same resolve. He is currently a medic in the 18th Heliborne Brigade of the Rubinelle Army.

Personality: Peter is much calmer then his brother, as dictated by his role. He rarely, if ever, curses. He is often considered the smarter one. He is known to occasionally taunt those who he sees as weak or acts inappropriately. He is especially close to his older brother.

**Private Samuel H Garcia**

Height: 5 foot 10

Eye color: Green

Hair color: Copper

Age: 20

Bio: His past is largely unknown, mostly from the fact he never mentions it. It is known that he lived near the coast at some point. His motivations for joining are a mystery that has plagued many for years, though many believe it has some relation to his xenophobia of Lazurians.

Personality: He is carefree and very talkative, even at the most inappropriate times. He is not afraid to speak his mind, often pointing out the obvious and the stupidity of most situations. While he may not seem serious, he is skilled in the art of combat and can be an ideal and focused soldier when needed.

**Sergeant Jack K Anderson**

Height: 6 foot 6

Eye Color: Blue

Hair color: Brown, but quickly turning gray.

Age: 43

Bio: Once an energetic young man more than willing to fight, his role as a heavy weapons expert in the Great War changed him as much as it changed everyone else. He along with his friend Riley participated in the final battle of the war and consequently saw the defeat of Rubinelle. He since has become an instructor, sharing his valuable experience with a new generation of soldiers.

Personality: While serious in training, sometimes to an extreme, he is much more relaxed and casual to those he deems worthy. He is still energetic about his job, and often reminisces the old days. He often gets along well with and understands recruits and younger soldiers, having figured them out after years of shaping them.

**Sergeant Riley A Anson**

Height: 6 feet

Eye color: Green

Hair color: Black, but quickly growing gray.

Age: 42

Bio: His past is something unknown to all of the soldiers he trains; it was once stated that he had been using sniper rifles since he was 11. Like his friend Jack, he took part in the Great War, up until the final battle. Having survived, he now trains the next generation of front line soldiers.

Personality: He is famous around the installation for his apparent lack of human emotion. The only emotion he ever shows is annoyance, usually with unruly recruits. He shows extreme disapproval for incompetence; he once shot a teammate for desertion. He demands the best and nothing less from the men he trains, although on rare occasions he shows sympathy to those he sees as good soldiers.

**Timothy Haskett**

Height: 5 foot 11

Eye color: Hazel

Hair color: Brown

Age: 30

Bio: His past before the orphanage is known to himself alone. What is known is that his adolescent years were plagued by anti-social behavior, authority problems, truancy, and minor criminal behavior. Shortly after becoming an adult, he and his soul mate joined the Air Force. After completing his training, he has become an attack helicopter pilot, waiting for the moment when war erupts.

Personality: As noted by doctors and counselors when he was young, he still maintains a mostly anti-social personality, shunning the prospect of socializing even with fellow pilots. He exaggerates this quality, as he regardless has gotten on good terms with some people, even though he doesn't care to admit it. He tries, sometimes in vain, to retain a 'tough as nails' persona. He shows an unhealthy acceptance of violence, likely a result of his upbringing. He is very close and loyal to his soul mate, Sarah.

**Sarah**

Height: 5 foot 8.

Eye color: Green

Hair color: Brown with hints of blond

Age: 29

Bio: Similar to her soul mate, only she knows her past. It is common knowledge, however, that there was a horrible incident that still has side effects on her today. She was a constant victim of bullying at the orphanage, something that would shape her for life. Her younger years were plagued with many health and behavioral problems. She followed the career of an attack helicopter co-pilot. She has spent half of the last decade stationed at a base waiting for war. Her last name is unknown, as she began to use Tim's sometime after meeting him.

Personality: While much less social and cheerful then when she was a little girl, she still retains a somewhat outgoing, although rough, personality to the few people she gets along with. She is a tomboy to a fault, showing next to no feminine qualities. She can be very temperamental and violent if upset, sometimes to levels that can be very dangerous to others.

**Master Sergeant Rodney 'Stone' Plate**

Height: 6 feet

Eye color: Blue

Hair color: gray

Age: 48

Bio: He joined the air force during the Great War, amazing both sides with his skill in air-to-air combat. He was credited with shooting down nearly a hundred aircraft. When the war ended, and as the military struggled to rebuild itself, he passed his experience on in order to help speed up to process. For the past twenty years, he has been the flight lead of a second-in-line squadron.

Personality: He is very wise, often passing on advice of various natures to younger pilots. He will look after the lives of pilots under his command, taking whatever action necessary, even if it endangers his own life. He treats everyone with respect and calm, although this sometimes portrays him as weak.

**Airwoman Kim L Hymes**

Height: 5 foot 9

Eye color: Blue

Hair color: Blond

Age: 18

Bio: Raised in a happy and encouraging (though sheltered) life, she received some of the best education one could receive. Graduating fairly early, she went on to become an Air Force pilot. She had recently been stationed near the coast as a pilot of a second-in-line squadron. Her exact motivation for enlisting is her grandfather, though she chooses not to elaborate on this point.

Personality: She is bright, cheery, and upbeat at every hour of the day. Should a dangerous situation arise, she can be tough, resourceful, and commanding. She is deeply devoted to her friends and worries about them often. Due to her sheltered rising, she comes off as very naïve in many cases, which sometimes causes problems.

**Eddie Hodder**

Height: 5 foot 7

Eye color: Brown

Hair color: Blond

Age: 17

Bio: His past is a subject of great debate among the other pilots, though these theories are often incredulous. No one knows why he enlisted. He currently serves as an A1 Sky Raider pilot in Reserve Squadron No. 241.

Personality: He is shy, recessive, and anti-social to an extreme nature. These traits placed him on the absolute bottom of the 'food chain', so to speak. He shows an unusually pacifistic nature, though he will do anything asked of him with complete obedience.


	2. Chapter 1

XX A/N XX

As of August 2014, this chapter has been revised and reposted, along with the Prologue and Chapter Two.

X James X

"No plan of battle survives contact with the enemy." It was one of the oldest sayings in military history. As I'd learned in the last two years, the same could be said for life and the world as well. I'd started the whole thing out as a soldier, but by the time we'd reached that hell in the forest, everything had changed and fell apart without me ever realizing they had.

I wasn't sure where my inspiration to become a soldier had truly started. As I grew up in southern Rubinelle with my parents and my younger brother Peter, I always remembered being somewhat fascinated with the way soldiers looked, and that fascination had developed as I got older.

I may not be a bookish type, but it started with history, believe it or not. To the north of Rubinelle laid a channel of water, and across it, the nation we had fought with many times since its existence: Lazuria. Nearly the entire curriculum for history was about the wars between our countries, including the last one that we lost fifteen years ago, at a time when we were just babies. Seeing soldiers from many different generations had perked my interest even more.

A constant stream of propaganda from the government played a role as well. It was always calling for 'brave men and women' to stand up against 'our savage enemy in the north'. As I grew older I started to dismiss most of that stuff as lies; odds were they were just like us, trying to ensure their country was safe and in prosperity. It was a noble thing for sure, but I had a duty to my own country as well.

What finally motivated me was seeing how other people thought of us. The rest of the country looked up to soldiers. Another war was always a real possibility, and people were scared of that type of destruction. They looked up to soldiers because they stood there to hold that destruction back.

_Hope is what people want and I can give it to them._And I certainly didn't want destruction to visit my home. By the time my fourteenth birthday had come around, I knew exactly what I wanted to do after I finished school, and I started preparing for it. Peter had been swayed by the same factors, and both of us had started preparing together. We never made our intentions known, but I always thought our parents suspected. As the years went by, we got stronger and stronger.

I finished high school at eighteen with good grades, and I waited for another year since Peter was a grade behind me, doing menial jobs at nearby establishments. When we both had our diplomas, we announced our intentions to our family. Mother had cried at the idea of her only two children going away, but both our parents respected and appreciated our decisions. The rest of our family had been just as understanding as well. The next day, we met with an Army recruiter.

The Rubinelle Army was a massive organization. It had over a million active soldiers, organized into several combat units. Both of us had originally intended to go into the infantry—it was the backbone of the whole Army. The recruiter, however, had suggested us to take another path—the Heliborne troops. Other countries called them Air Assault units, and most Army infantry brigades had a battalion capable of such operations for securing tactical objectives. On the other hand, Heliborne troops operated on the brigade level as rapid-response troops and as raiding and rescuing forces: a sort of a grey area between the regular Army and the Special Forces. Seeing pictures of men from those units capturing and freeing a Rubinelle POW camp had convinced us both that it was the path we should take.

Two months later, we headed off to basic training. Even with all the preparation we'd done, it was still hard. It had stripped us down of any weaknesses and built us back up as effective soldiers. Then, we went to a specialized school to learn Air Assault techniques. We earned our badges and got our first posting with the 18th Heliborne Brigade, a small but important unit stationed in the northwest of the country, hundreds of miles from our home.

It had been two years since we'd come here, and I never regretted it. Even though we were far from home, we stayed in contact with our family, and even got to visit them a couple of times. Peter and I both landed in the same unit: 3rd Platoon, E Company, 2nd Battalion, and we made quite a few friends in it. There were plenty of things to do in the nearby town when we had time off, and on some weekends when we got leave some of us would take a bus and travel forty miles north into the state of Maris and enjoy ourselves in some of the state's famous water parks. Life was good.

And just like I expected, people appreciated us. They would wave, thank us, and ask to shake our hands. They always looked so confident and pleased with us around. There were some who didn't; they were people who believed the country was slipping into militarism. Part of the reason I was here was so it wouldn't happen.

_A good soldier is impartial._

I'd never really given thought to what we would do after another two years, when our contracts expired. I had actually thought of re-enlisting, but I always ended up putting it off. To us, it had seemed so far away, and there was always the threat of war hanging over us. Of course, I never wanted to kill anyone, but I would if I had to. Compared to those relatively easier days, I could never have imagined the tests that were going to be thrown at us.

X Two years ago, in northwestern Rubinelle. X

"You will be given two additional magazines, each containing five rounds, in addition to those already in the gun." The firing range's instructor held up one of the slim black clips as an example. "You will have ten targets, three of which will be moving. You may shoot from whatever stance you want." He looked down at the clipboard he was carrying and barked out a random name: "Jack Elis!"

The man in question, whom I knew was a good pool player, stepped forward from where the platoon was sitting. This week was a little different for the brigade; we were undergoing weapons training rather than performing a large-scale field exercise. The weapon in question? It was a sniper rifle. We were always adapting ways to overcome our enemy, always changing as they were. According to a recent report by the Department of Defense, Lazuria had about three snipers for every one that Rubinelle had. Even the old war stories told of a certain Lazurian sniper whom the veterans called 'The Blue Death'; according to the stories we've heard, he had been credited with at least a thousand kills—including two generals—and that he had survived the war, despite all the efforts made to track and kill him, which included an entire artillery _regiment_ bombarding a forest in an effort to smoke him out. _He might even be teaching his techniques to the new Lazurian recruits… _To counter this, units across the country were holding exercises like this to find potential candidates to boost our own numbers and our skill levels as well.

I wasn't sure I would do very well, even though the man who taught us the basics had been a veteran of the Great War. But if by chance I did, I would take the opportunity. It would help the Army; it would help the country. If not, I wouldn't mind going on being a rifleman; I was pretty effective with my M-4.

I doubted Peter would, though. As he was sitting a few spots over with his MP-5 in his lap, I could already tell he wouldn't accept the opportunity if it came to him. He wore the patch of the Rubinelle Red Cross on his shoulder. He pursued the job of a combat medic after we got here; it had fascinated him. He helped people, and he enjoyed it. He wouldn't give that up, and I could respect him for that.

The first man went off, and expended all fifteen of his shots. After a moment of peering through binoculars, the range master barked, "Four targets hit; all stationary!" He wrote it down. Half wasn't a bad start for people who'd never touched one before. Members of the platoon were called up at random as the test was conducted again and again. Most people scored at least three hits, though. "Samuel Garcia!" The range master called off the next name, and a bit of snickering broke out throughout the platoon.

Sam, as we called him, was that one unlucky guy who was joke of the platoon. He was good guy, yeah, and he could make even me laugh. But as a soldier, he was a little inadequate, usually getting into trouble with our superiors. I didn't usually jump on the bandwagon because he was decent overall and not dead weight, although sometimes he didn't seem right to me.

"Two stationary targets!" The range master called out after all fifteen shots were expended. Sam swore loudly and snatched up his M-16 before returning to the platoon; he was mad even though his score wasn't the worst one so far. The list went on, and we broke out in applause when one of our own, a PFC by the name of Kenton, hit eight of the targets. "Peter Coleman!" My brother went up, managed to hit half the targets, and returned to his spot without any visible reaction to his score. _He really didn't mind, after all._

As the lift continued, something began to attract our attention. "That a shooting star?" Someone asked. The range was outside, and even this early in the morning the sun was beating down on us. Off to the east, we could all clearly see that something was soaring through the air at a downward arc. If that was a shooting star, it had to be pretty bright.

"There's another one!" Someone called, and we all turned our heads in the opposite direction to see another streak of light. Other people started looking around.

"There are a lot of them!" We could all see no less than five streaks now, all looking pretty much the same and heading... towards the ground. I was pretty sure I wasn't the only one who felt a jolt in my spine just then. Could those things be ballistic missiles? Lazuria did have that technology, their one trump card against us. The range master had stopped calling names, and was just as transfixed on the sight as everyone else.

"THAT does not look good." I heard Sam say, getting people to agree with him for once. The range master got onto his radio to try and see what the hell was going on. Most of us were transfixed by the sight, and I felt my panic begin to ease. Missiles travelled a lot faster than that. But what were those things...?

"Goddamn this piece of shit!" The range master was scowling at his radio. "You!" He was pointing at me. "Go back and find out what the hell is going on."

"Yes sergeant!" I turned and started jogging. The outdoor ranges were in a field just two miles south of the base, and you had to walk a trail to get between the two. I got held up when I got to the small security gate in front of the base. I found the two MPs who normally guarded it had torn it down. "What happened?" I asked.

"Whole base just lost power!" One of them explained. "The colonel is ordering the whole brigade to combat readiness." I felt a jolt up my spine. Was this really a war? I always prepared for the possibility, but the rapid pace at which things were deteriorating left me slightly stunned.

"Is it an attack?" I asked. Neither of the men knew, but all of us looked up at the strange streaks in the sky. Several more appeared in the last few minutes. What were they? "My platoon is at one of the ranges." I jerked a thumb back.

"I'll go inform them." One of the MPs interrupted me and jogged past.

"All combat troops need to get moving now," the other explained. "Go! They'll catch up." I nodded and stepped through the hole and started running. My mind started to form a clearer thought. I was a soldier. I had to do what I'd been trained to do without giving in. If there was a war going on, I'd have to get ready, no matter what.

The base that held all four battalions of the brigade also held several squadrons' worth of transport helicopters: the key to our doctrine. The heliports were located beside each battalion's HQ. Ours was located on the far side of the base. A few other members of the brigade were out and running to their own rally points as well. I already had my full gear, so I didn't have to stop for anything. I just had to—

Something exploded. As loud as it was, I thought it had to have been just a block away. And then a shockwave came, forcing its way over and around the nearby buildings and hitting all of us head-on. I was thrown to the ground with everyone else. I must've blacked out then, because the next thing I remembered was being dragged along by someone, unable to comprehend where I was or what was going on.

I must've blacked out after that, too. The next thing I remembered was looking at the ceiling. I forced myself back up out of sheer panic. "What the hell!" I shouted, still trying to gain my bearings. I could feel the ground beneath me _shaking_. A continuous roar sounded in my already ringing ears, apparently from outside. A missile strike? Nukes? For all my training, I wasn't reacting to this situation well.

Then again, neither was anyone else. Several soldiers and support personnel were crammed into the little basement of a building I didn't recognize. Some of them were injured, and I realized someone must've dragged me here after I fell. If I was injured, I was currently in too great a shock to notice. Nearly every ceiling panel had fallen down, and the room was dark. Further down the hall, a window had broken, and I could have sworn I saw bright flames shining through. Actually, the whole world seemed to be a little less dark.

"Whatthefuckwhathefuckwhatthefuck." One of the soldiers was hugging the ground with his hands over his ears, freaking out. I almost wanted to do the same thing. The whole world suddenly seemed to have gone to hell, and I had no idea why; I was too bewildered to try and make any sense out of it.

"I'm going up!" One of the soldiers gathered shouted, and I suddenly realized he was an officer: a major. "I need three people with me!" I immediately jumped up with four other guys. The major didn't complain, and there were still a few people down here to protect the support personnel and the injured as well. We had to get up there, observe whatever was happening, and hopefully think of ways to counter it. "Come on!"

We stumbled behind the major as he tried to lead us out of the basement. The ground was still shaking, and I could've sworn I heard the building groan. Was it going to collapse? Could this have been an earthquake? We'd gotten up a ladder on the ground floor when the building collapsed. The floor beneath us went first, dropping us back into the basement. We never even made it outside.

Suddenly surrounded by rubble, the world went black, still without me knowing what the hell had just happened.

X Tim X

Life is a funny thing—funny like a crutch. It actually _enjoys_ screwing you. It certainly had kicked me in the balls a lot through the years. The last two years had really been a fucking rollercoaster. Not just for me, either; it'd been for both Sarah and I.

I'm not really into those dopey love concepts, but me and Sarah? We always had been an odd pairing for... a lot of reasons, but for the past two decades or so, things were pretty solid between the two of us. In fact, we'd been optimistic when things began; we'd faced a lot of problems before, so how hard could a new world be?

You know what? I'll admit it: the two of us had a real rough childhood. Growing up in an orphanage, what could anyone expect? We hadn't even been war orphans; our parents just flat out didn't want us. And we had a lot of problems throughout those years too: personal, physical, and emotional. But that was done and gone and didn't matter one bit now. We never thought about those years now—ever. We'd lived our lives there, survived serious shit, and gotten on to the next stage in our lives.

What career could a pair of misfits like us do? The military! In any other country, that wouldn't fly. But in Rubinelle, as long as you obeyed the order to kill other people and didn't kill your own people or damage the equipment, you had a career as a fighter. These guys were so desperate to have the world's largest military; they cut a hell of a lot of corners. It was cheap housing, cheap food, and a guaranteed paycheck, so we took it. _Beats the street, doesn't it?_

What job had we chosen? Piloting attack helicopters. A lot of recruiters came by the orphanage, trying to get more cannon fodder. Sure, all branches had them, but it had been an Air Force recruiter that came in days after we decided to join the military, so that's how we joined the Air Force. We spent two years of our lives actually getting qualified for that job: basic training, Officer Candidate School (not that hard), and then flight school for me, weapons school for Sarah.

Those two years had been a bit rough since the two of us had been in separate classes. Since it was all on the same base, we did get to see each other occasionally and got a few breaks. The actual experiences themselves were pretty easy, too. Basic training? I lifted weights and got yelled at in the orphanage every day, it was nothing. Officer Candidate School? Half of it was just remembering certain rules, courtesies, and rank structures. The rest was stuff like firearms training. I had to admit; both classes had straightened us out a LOT from how we used to act. These guys cut corners, but they still had minimum standards.

Learning how to actually pilot a helicopter had been the hardest part. Like I said, we were smart in a decent sense, but there was still a lot to learn. Trying to learn had straightened me out a lot more too, and even stayed like that after I finished. We both passed through our classes successfully, and after that, we officially became Air Force pilots. And you know what? It actually felt pretty damn good, the best thing we'd done so far in our lives.

And then came our posting. Now the Air Force had rules about couples, mostly against them, but Sarah and I had no intention of splitting up. We'd plotted for this, and even the recruiter had given us a few tips. When we met with the people to discuss it, we decided to put a spin on things: 'You need two people who could use a helicopter effectively, preferably a pair who already trust each other and had a lot of experience working together. Other people would have to learn all those things from scratch.' And it worked; we'd gotten posted together. And that began the next leg of our lives, and the load of unexpected headaches that came with it as well.

X Two years ago, in western Rubinelle. X

"Fuck, it's hot." I complained, ducking into the cover of the housing building. We'd been stationed at the same base our entire careers—even after re-enlisting twice—and I had never gotten used to the weather. We were in the western side of the country— actually, just about ninety miles from the coast. Summers here were unbearable.

It was a pretty small base, too—three runways, a few hangars, two housing buildings, the administrative building, and a few others—and only about five hundred people total. We weren't even part of the main force. Most of the Air Force was stationed up north, near the channel that separated our country from Lazuria—a bunch of real bastards we'd fought with over the years, not that I cared much for history. And our group? We were part of the secondary forces they posted on the other borders where something wasn't likely to happen. Most of the people and the pilots here were the ones who had the lowest scores. The only reason we hadn't gotten posted anywhere new, or gotten promoted for that matter, was because we never really tried. _Not that it's worth the effort, anyway..._

Truth was that I didn't really care. The base wasn't far from a town with a few good bars, and you could even get to a beach if you took a two-hour train ride to the coast. Here they didn't have us doing training exercises as often, too, so there usually was a lot of down time. And even if we hadn't advanced in the ranks, the Air Force still wanted to keep us. Apparently, helicopter pilots were too good of an asset to be released into the private sector. _Not to mention that we're pretty damn good, too. _Most of the other people on the base left me alone, probably because I still had a lot of muscle. And, of course, Sarah was with me... most of the time, anyway. Life was good.

The air conditioning in the building was nice, and I almost felt sorry for the guys who passed by me, who were doing work outside for the air patrols. It was a Mixed Group at the base (literally, it was organized as something called a 'Mixed Operations Group'), so it wasn't just eight attack helicopters here. They had a bunch of fighters too, and then they had a ton of A-1 Sky Raiders, old junk yard heaps that they still thought could be a good ground attack plane. Those little prop-driven things were death traps if you asked me, but as far as the guys in charge were concerned, this little group was enough to handle any situation that could visit this boring little part of the country.

The first floor of the housing building contained the rec room, the laundry room, and a small kitchen. I headed into the rec room first to check for something. Two guys were playing at the pool table when I got in there. "Hey man." They both greeted me. I nodded back. Those two guys were part of the attack helicopter squadron here. I didn't really interact with anyone else in the squadron beyond Sarah much... but they were okay guys. The fighter pilots here were the real assholes. I headed into the part of the floor that served as a lounge, and found exactly was I was looking for.

"Morning, ladies," I greeted the brunette and the blond who were sitting on the bench, with their heads bent towards each other. They both looked back at me. "Hey, what're you doing?" Sarah turned around and leaned over at the back of the couch. Sarah always had a thin but tough look on her. That, her general tomboy behavior, and the fact that she was nearly thirty (older than most people here), meant she was generally (but not completely; I had to 'teach' a few people) left alone by everyone else. But for me, she was perfect. For the last ten years she'd been my smarter half, the one who kept me straight no matter how much I hated it. We didn't have what most people would say a normal relationship was—we didn't go on dates or say 'I love you' that often, if at all—but just being around each other had been good enough for us in the past couple of years.

"Just making sure you're here," I answered. "You two planning world domination again?" Sarah snorted.

"We'll be discussing that once we go to the toilet together." Sarah held up what looked like a catalog. "We were discussing clothes and underwear, if you must know." That was one of Sarah's most defining traits, and her main weapon: she was pretty damn open and could win most arguments just by embarrassing the other person into submission. Sometimes she did it for shits and giggles. "Right, Kim?" Sarah nudged the girl next to her, who shyly nodded.

Kim was, besides Sarah, the only other girl on base, if you'll believe it—and she piloted a fighter plane, too. Despite being a decade younger, and having a completely opposite personality, the two had struck up a friendship since Kim had arrived a few months ago. The funny thing is when Sarah had first found out she was getting a new roommate, things had not been friendly—not at all. Now, they did all these things like looking through magazines, going _everywhere_ together, and a whole bunch of other crap, as if nothing bad had happened a few months ago. That was women for you.

Seeing them together just reminded me how different their personalities really were. Sarah was and had been crude and indecent, the tomboyish girl I'd always liked, the girl who had always stayed beside me. But now, she was spending a lot of time with Kim nowadays, and she actually started acting 'girly' because of it. I wasn't jealous of them, of course; after all, they were both girls. Sarah had never really been the social type, sticking with me even after we joined the Air Force. To see her act different was just a little unsettling.

On the other hand, Kim herself wasn't that bad a person, to be honest. She'd gotten through all the same training Sarah and I had, though I sometimes wondered how she'd pulled it off. She always had this childish and innocent personality though, and it annoyed the hell out of me, particularly when she complained I swore too much. It was pretty damn obvious she knew exactly what she was doing, but she still did it despite being an adult.

_It's a tough world. You're a made killer. Act like it._ I knew what I was, and I acted like it.

Still... she'd kind of grown on me, probably because she was Sarah's shadow and I saw her a lot. We rarely talked directly to each other, but the three of us would hang around sometimes. Hell, Sarah had conned me into going shopping with the two of them once—only once though. _Not that I mind being warned by the saleslady for vandalizing the shelves, which I did while waiting for three damn hours as the ladies shopped—and because I was bored. _Being the only other girl on the base, and even though Sarah had told me she apparently had her eyes on some Sky Raider pilot, she naturally got a lot of 'attention'. Since she was always with Sarah, they both shared the 'attention' too, which pissed me off. I sometimes found myself acting like a damn bodyguard.

"I was just making sure you two were still here." I shrugged.

"Well, just remember there's the combat drill tomorrow," Sarah leaned forward and hugged me. "We'll have to make up a strategy later; otherwise we won't get the highest marks again."

"You got it." I nodded and started heading out.

"Bye, Tim!" Kim called, and I rolled my eyes. _Annoying blonde. _I headed out of the lounge and towards the stairs. I was thinking of going to the room I had by myself (they hadn't let Sarah and I bunk together, the bastards), and maybe watch some TV for the time being. Unfortunately, I ran into the biggest asshole on the base, and he was coming down at the same time.

"Brotha man!" The way these Mixed Operations Groups were organized, there were two squadrons of fighters, and one of the squadron leaders commanded the whole group. Waylon was the leader we didn't deserve and we sure as hell didn't need. God only knew how he stayed in the Air Force this long; he hardly wore his uniform at all, and the glasses and weird hairstyle made him look like some kind of beach bum. But he was still in, a misfit meant to lead a bunch of other sorry sorts. Hell, just his presence caused discipline around here to slip.

_My ass, me worrying about discipline! _I was a degenerate and this guy looked bad to me. He had this 'party all the time' attitude. Now, don't get me wrong; Sarah and I don't mind drinking, having a little fun, or getting some 'private quality time' afterwards, but we only wanted to do it occasionally. This guy wanted to do it all the time. It had certainly helped his popularity with most of the people here, and that was probably why no one had complained and gotten him thrown out. I had to admit, though, that he was a damn good fighter pilot.

He was also a damn pervert. If I ever saw him off base, he was usually trying to get into some girl's pants. Kim and Sarah hadn't always been the only girls on base, just the only ones who stayed around without begging for a transfer. Waylon didn't even dare making a move on them both, but I knew he was looking for a way to do it, the asshole. And if he did anything more, I'd beat his ass, military justice be damned. But otherwise? He was a nuisance I just had to get away from.

With a cocky grin and a breath that smelled like alcohol, he beat me on the shoulder. "No partying on a Saturday?"

"Too early." I jerked my thumb to a clock on the wall that read 11:32. "Maybe later." That was the trick to get away from him: make it seem like you'd be back later. Waylon grinned. "Later? Any time is party time for Waylon, brotha man! Gotta find me some party buddies, then." He tapped my shoulder. "Join me any time soon, y'hear?"

_Yeah, maybe in a thousand years, asshole. _He went on, probably to bug some of the other people hanging around the first floor. Entering the stairway, I started climbing to my spot on the third floor. I decided to watch TV for a bit, meet with Sarah later, and together we'd see where the night went from there. I was on the second flight of stairs when the lights went out, plunging the whole stairway into darkness.

"What the fuck!" I shouted, tightening my grip on the railing to keep myself from falling. I couldn't see jack shit. This was an old base; maybe they'd screwed something up? "Fucking idiots and their—" I stopped and went still, suddenly thinking I heard something in the stairs. After a moment I realized I heard something _outside_—some sort of roaring sound. Was it thunder? The sky had been clear.

Whatever the hell it was, I didn't find out. The last thing I could remember was standing in pitch blackness and listening to the roaring sound become unbelievably louder. And then, nothing.


	3. Chapter 2

Authors Note: As of 2014, this chapter has been redone and reposted along with the Prologue and Chapter One in an effort to improve the quality of the earlier chapters. Further chapters are to be improved at a later date.

X James X

"Uuugh." The sound came out of my mouth before I fully realized I was awake. The feeling of disorientation was unlike any that I'd ever experienced before, and I felt dull pain all over my body. I groaned in agony. Where was I? What had happened? I couldn't make sense of anything. I just lay there with my eyes closed, thinking I was about to vanish into unconsciousness again.

As the minutes passed I became less and less convinced, as I became more aware of things aside from my own discomfort. I seemed to be lying on my side, with something hard beneath me. It was silent all around me. And the smell... I twitched, unable to describe the pungent odor. After a moment, I opened my eyes.

"Huh?"Even after opening my eyes, darkness was still the only thing in front of me. I started to feel a slight panic, but contained myself. Cautiously, I moved both my arms, finding feeling in both of them and in my fingers. My legs were fine, too. But then, where was I? I was lying on something hard, I knew as much. With even more caution, I stretched my limbs in different directions to try and come into contact with something.

When I stretched my left leg out, it came into contact with something that budged under the weight. Was it a slab of loose concrete? Reaching my arms up, they came into contact with something solid and completely immobile. I thought it was metal. If only I could see... I felt a jolt go up was spine and had to resist the urge to bolt up.

_I'm a soldier! I'm supposed to work in any environment!_I wasn't sure why I'd forgotten that; it had to have been the shock. But now I could quite clearly remember what had happened and how I'd gotten here. I felt another slight wave of panic. What about my platoon? The brigade? The entire _county_? I had to get out of here. _I have a duty to perform._

I quickly patted myself down, seeing if I still had my full kit with me. My rifle was gone, and no matter how much I groped around I couldn't find it. I still had my sidearm, though. Reaching behind me, I confirmed that I still had my whole pack with me. Still fumbling in the dark, I shrugged it off my shoulders and dragged it around in front of me. Out of memory, I opened it and groped the contents inside for a particular item: a flashlight.

I retrieved the item quickly and rolled onto my back to get my first good look at my surroundings. Like I'd thought, there was a metal support beam just a few feet above me. Had it not been there, I probably wouldn't have survived. Because of that, there was a little space, about ten feet wide and seven feet high, where I found myself in. It was definitely some luck. All around me were slabs of concrete and building material that collapsed into a formidable-looking wall. It was almost like a little cave.

It might have terrified some people, but I was a soldier. I had training, and I had the tools I needed. I could find my way out of here, and I would. I reached back into my rucksack and retrieved another item: a digging tool. I hadn't suffocated here, which meant that air was able to get inside through some sort of path. That was my way out.

I rolled over onto my stomach and inched forward towards the wreckage. Using the flashlight, I tried to locate holes and feel for a draft. There wasn't any light seeping in, so it must be dark outside. Was it nighttime? How long had I been unconscious? All the more reason to get outside. The walls turned up nothing, so I tried the roof of the little cave.

I found a draft almost immediately and craned my neck to peer inside. There was a small hole, big enough for me to stick my arm into. I shut my flashlight off for a brief moment and stared into it. Just at the end, maybe thirty yards away, I was certain I could see just a little light. That was a start. The rubble around the hole was mostly concrete, but looked loose. I raised my digging tool and started chipping away at it.

The outer layers fell away almost immediately, widening the mouth of the hole. Unless there was another beam in the way, I should be able to widen the whole thing and climb out. I continued my efforts for a few minutes till the hole was sufficiently wide enough. I checked myself to make sure I had all my gear, save my rifle that was still missing, and stretched for a minute.

"Gotta know what's out there..." I reached up, grabbed the edge, and pulled myself up. Using all four limbs, I managed to climb slowly and awkwardly up the tunnel till I found a solid edge to grab and hauled myself up and back onto flat ground. There was debris piled up all around here, too, but the tiled floor told me this was definitely the first floor of a building. I stood up cautiously and pulled my pistol from its holster, thumbing off the safety but keeping it pointed downwards.

Light was leaking through gaps in the wall of debris still around me, though I couldn't see past them. The wind whistled loudly nearby, which meant the building walls must've fallen down at some point. But what I noticed more was the smell; it was the same indescribably horrid odor, but ten times worse. As soon as I inhaled, I couldn't stop myself from puking my guts out all over the floor. Even though my stomach was empty, it still left me gasping and heaving.

I grappled for the water canteen I had and drank to sooth my mouth. Holding my breath in, I rummaged in my kit till I found a useful item: a gas mask. Chemical weapons were technically illegal, but gas masks were still general issue because they had other uses. In this instance, it would help me not have to breathe that putrid air. I needed a moment to calm down even after I'd donned the item and continued forward.

I moved past a wall of debris in my way by climbing over and under items with the intent of finding my way outside. There were the crumbled remains of a wall in front of me, and I jogged up to finally get a look outside. What I saw stopped me cold.

"Oh my God." Outside was nothing but complete destruction. It wasn't just this building; every building that I could see was either demolished or barely standing. The entire ground was covered with dust, debris, and other things. There was rubble as far as my eyes could see. I was almost certain I wasn't on my old base anymore. I had absolutely no sense of direction. It was so shocking; I almost completely missed something potentially worse above.

The sky was red—not the same red as when the sun rose or set. I couldn't even see the sun. But the sky was a dull red, the only thing noticeable being a few dark clouds drifting around. I felt the skin on my entire body crawl; those were the signs of a nuclear apocalypse. Had it been a nuclear attack? A shockwave hitting the base would be a good explanation...but it definitely would've killed me by radiation. If not, what? And did it mean war?

_Think. I have to do something here._ As hard as it was, I tore my gaze away from the unsettling sight and looked at the ground around me. There had been several thousand people on this base. Some of them might be trapped like I was, or maybe others had survived, anyway. _I have to look. Whatever happened, we need to rally and respond. There are people depending on us. _I had a good suspicion as to what that smell was now, but it didn't deter me. No matter what happened, you always had to leave a man behind. Despite the eerie silence and the rustling of the wind, I knew there had to be someone out there.

I carefully stepped down the pile of rubble, thankful that my boots still protected by feet from the mess. Standing in the middle of what I thought was a street I pulled my mask off and cupped my hands by my mouth. "Is anyone out there? Please respond!" I shouted in one direction and waited while it echoed. When nothing came back, I turned and yelled the other way, again with the same result. I felt a cold spot in my chest. "Gotta keep looking," I told myself.

I had no real sense of direction, but I spent the next three hours or so moving from one heap of rubble to another, calling out and listening for a response, which hopefully would come. When it was possible, I tried to look inside some of the destroyed buildings. Without engineering equipment, however, looking inside most of the buildings would be impossible. By then, I must've covered a third of the base without result. It was leaving me discouraged.

I was beginning to become weary as well. Not long after I'd started searching, my stomach had started aching from hunger, but I had no food with me and the chow hall was definitely among the destroyed buildings. Since I'd been unconscious but not asleep, I'd gotten tired pretty quickly. Within a few hours, I was simply dragging my feet.

I knew there was still something I could do, but I simply didn't have to energy to do it; I eventually stopped around the first stretch of ground I found without any debris strewn all over it. Burnt-out helicopters lay on their sides all around me; this had been one of the battalion heliports. And even if the ground was concrete, it was flat. That was all I was looking for at that point.

_A few minutes won't hurt,_I told myself, _and I gotta rest and stay strong so I can carry on my duty. _I shrugged my pack off, put it on the ground and laid myself on it. I felt even more tired as I put my head on this makeshift pillow. "Just a little bit," I repeated to myself in a yawn, "no point in destroying myself." I closed my eyes. The ground wasn't that comfortable, it was still chilly, and my helmet and gas mask made it kind of uncomfortable, but I drifted off almost immediately.

"Hey, HEY! You alive, boy?" When I woke back up, somebody was yelling in my ear and shaking me violently. When I opened my eyes, I realized there was someone right in front of me. Surprised, I scrambled up while moving to the side, raising my hand gun all the same. Panting, I lowered my weapon and tried to calm myself. There was no need to panic because I recognized the man.

"Sergeant Anderson?" The man was tall and wide, and he was carrying a light machine gun in his left hand—an M249. He was a unit veteran; he'd been in the 18th Heliborne since the last war, and he had fought in a lot of battles. Now though, he was part of the group that maintained the brigade's weapons in peacetime. We only saw him at training exercises. In response to my question, the big man nodded.

"You got a name and rank, soldier?" He looked at my uniform, which was too dirty to make out the rank or name patches. I straightened up and made an effort to brush the dirt off my front.

"Private James Coleman, E Company, 2nd Battalion, sir!"

"Calm down, Private, this isn't really the time for spit and polish," Sergeant Anderson shook his head. I realized he had a point, given the destruction around us. He looked beat up too, and his weathered grey face had a lot of fresh cuts. I quickly remembered I was wearing my gas mask and pulled it off. "Not much a point in wearing it right now," Sergeant Anderson nodded.

"Sergeant, what's going on?" I asked.

"Can't answer what I don't know, Private." I got a blunt answer in reply. "You said your name was Coleman?" I nodded. "You got a brother who's a medic?" I froze like a deer in headlights for just a moment.

"Y—yes sir," I stuttered. _Peter. How the hell did I forget about him?_ My first thought had been about the brigade, but that was understandable. Still... "Is he okay, sir?" I asked. To my relief, the sergeant nodded before giving me worse news.

"He's one of the few who made it. The colonel bought the farm, all the lieutenant-colonels bought it, and pretty much the whole brigade bought it." He shook his head. "Not many survivors." He said it without any feelings on his part, and I had to remind myself that he was a veteran. Rubinelle had lost a lot of men in the last war; any of the survivors would have gotten used to it.

Feeling sick in the stomach, I risked a question: "How many we got left, sir? A company? A platoon?"

"You're the fifth we've got, Private," he informed me. Five? I suddenly felt extremely dizzy. Five people... out of the six thousand here on the base? It suddenly seemed difficult to stand. The sergeant noticed it.

"Sit down, Private," he ordered, and I needed no other invitation to fall backwards.

"How?" I asked, struggling to comprehend the vast amount of information I was getting. Things were bad a few minutes ago, and now...

"A lot of things, Private," Sergeant Anderson got down and sat on the ground opposite me. "We actually did get a dozen birds in the air, but they all crashed after taking off." A dozen helicopters? That was at least five hundred men and women right there, and whoever they might've landed on. "A lot of people took cover in the buildings, but those collapsed, too. A couple of fires started and trapped people." He said all of this in a deadpan voice. "You said you were with E Company, right? Third Platoon, by any chance?"

"Yes sergeant." I nodded, surprised at his knowledge. He nodded.

"Two of the other soldiers are from the same unit—your brother and Garcia." I felt a slight sense of relief knowing that. "A few people, including some people from your old platoon, survived and tried to rescue other survivors who got trapped in the buildings." He shook his head. "A lot of people died doing that, too. It's hard to explain, Private, but it was a complete and total chaos here. When things finally calmed down it were just them, me, and another instructor left. We spent two days searching for the others—we're pretty sure some deserted, but we couldn't find anyone else."

"Two days?" I said in surprise. I'd been out for two days while people died... I felt sick and woozy and ready to pass out again.

"How'd you survive, Private?" He went on. "Only reason I noticed you was because bodies don't usually move."

"I, uhhh, woke up under some rubble. Apparently a steel beam had kept it from crushing me." I explained, realizing just then how lucky I'd been when I could've died from a number of ways. My mind was reeling and the shock was making me close to passing out again. _Get a grip, soldier,_ I kept repeating that in my head.

"Same thing saved the other instructor and me," he nodded. "You were lucky, Private." I sure didn't feel lucky. In fact, I still felt sick. Too much was being piled on me to accept or understand all at once. "Stand up, soldier, it isn't a good idea to stay around here. We've set up on a new spot in the town."

Soldier... I was a soldier, wasn't I? That meant I had to be adaptable. And whatever had happened had definitely affected civilians too, so they'd need help. That was why I'd enlisted. That was why I always got through every day. Still feeling ill but motivated, I pushed myself back up.

"Yes sir," I nodded, taking a minute to get my balance. "Where is it?" I wanted to get the hell off this base. The longer I stayed, the more I was sure I'd shut down completely. I knew there wasn't anything I really could've done, but it was hard to take it in.

"A spot just off the highway. Follow me, Private." He started walking, and I followed. I glanced back at the crashed Chinook and shook my head. One of the Army's most valuable units wiped out, with me as one of the few survivors. It wasn't something I wanted to think too much about. I felt kind of stiff from sleeping on the ground, but it had given me new energy. Even though I hadn't had a sense of direction, Sergeant Anderson seemed to have memorized the base's layout and confidently led me to the front gate after a mere twenty minutes.

I cast one last look at the base. It'd been my home for the past few years, and I'd likely never see it again. It still seemed slightly unreal, and I couldn't understand any of it. It was still hard to think about whatever had just happened. I tried to keep myself busy by asking about the city, but stopped myself; if what had happened here had wiped out an entire Army brigade, I didn't want to think about what it had done to a civilian center.

"So, what are the five of us going to do, sergeant?" Since Peter, Sam, and I were just privates, I naturally assumed the sergeant or the other instructor were probably the ones in charge now. "Do we try and link up with the rest of the Army?" The brigade had been stationed in a somewhat remote part northwest of the country.

"Not yet, Private." He shook his head. "We're searching the town for survivors now and stocking up on what supplies we could get. The motor pool went up in smoke, so we're trying to find some form of transportation first." Though it was a plan, it brought me back to what I hadn't wanted to ask at first.

"How is the town, sir?" The town, a sleepy little place of about 19,000 people, was always a favorite for people on leave. The people there were really friendly, and I really didn't want to hear that they'd been injured or worse. How can a soldier say that they defend citizens when the ones closest to an Army base aren't even safe? To my disappointment, the sergeant shook his head and told me most of it had burned to the ground. They hadn't found any survivors.

I stayed silent for the rest of the walk and thought to myself as I observed the forest that usually ran along the road; rather than the green it should've been in the summer, most of it was either burnt or rapidly dying. What had happened? The possibility of war still seemed most likely, but it would be unprofessional to jump to conclusions. Besides, no man-made weapon could do what we'd just witnessed. Hadn't those streaks in the sky had something to do with it?

The road that connected the base to town was only about three miles long. It wasn't far by normal standards, but I was still hungry and weary, so the last part was harder. The sergeant led me into and past the town's shopping district, towards the middle of the town where houses started appearing. Just like he'd said, a majority of the town seemed to have been gutted by fire. The smell wasn't as horrible as it was back at the base, but it was bad. One of the few unscathed buildings was a gas station near the center of town, which the sergeant pointed out to me. So that was where what remained of the 18th operated now? It was pitiful to think about.

Someone must've been looking out the windows, because the front door flew open and another solider came out and started walking towards us. I already knew it wasn't Peter or Sam, so it must've been one of the other instructors. He was tall and thin, and he wore a mask that covered most of his dark skin. "A survivor from the base?" He asked. I recognized the voice. It was the veteran who'd given my company rudimentary sniper training right before things went to hell.

"Sergeant Anson, Private Coleman, E Company, 2nd Battalion," I presented myself. He stared at me impassively for a moment. That was why he was easy to recognize around the base: his lack of apparent emotion was legendary. It was probably since he was a member of the 'old breed' too—he'd been a sniper during the last war, and was the only one aside from Anderson who was left of his platoon.

"Nice of you to join us, Private." He nodded at last, saying that last bit in a more deadpan tone. "Get inside." I noticed for the first time that he had his service pistol in his right hand and was scanning the surroundings with trained eyes. Was there a threat out here? "You got a rifle, Private?" He went on as the three of us walked back.

"No, Sergeant. Lost it during whatever hit the base," I admitted.

"We salvaged an arms cache; you can take your pick," Sergeant Anderson assured me. The bell dinged as we entered through the front door. The inside was deserted, and the shelves looked like the place had been looted. Had there been a riot?

_Wish we could've done something to prevent it._

"Coleman!" I jerked my head up but realized Anderson was calling at the back of the store. "Get out here!" I waited for a few tense moments while footsteps came from one of the back rooms before someone familiar came in. The black hair left no doubt as to who it was.

"James!" When Peter saw me, he jogged forward and hugged me, which I happily returned. "Thought you were gone!"

"Nah, I'm here. Can't believe you are here, too," I said, relieved. _At least I didn't lose my brother. That's one good thing to happen today._ It'd make things easier to bear, anyway. "You all right?" We disengaged and stood to look at each other. There was no doubt I looked ragged, but Peter looked rough as well. His whole person was covered with a layer of dirt and his eyes made it evident that he hadn't slept well.

"Could be better," he admitted. "I don't know what happened, but there wasn't anything we could really do." He shook his head. I still wished I'd been there, even if Sergeant Anderson had made it abundantly clear whatever had happened had been horribly out of our control.

"What's with all the noise?" Sam appeared from the back of the store then. "Shit, Jimmy boy is alive too?" He sounded surprised.

"Yeah," I walked over to him, "somehow. Glad to see you're okay, man." Sam grinned and we pounded each other the shoulder. It wasn't something we normally did, but I would take what good news was available right now.

"Our platoon must've been lucky." For someone who was normally carefree, Sam looked just as stressed as Peter did. He sounded strained when he talked, too. I couldn't stop myself from grimacing. That was everyone we'd known—gone... "Hell man, at least we're with people we know." He tried to sound positive. That was small, but it was still good news. I turned my mind to other things.

_I'm still on duty._I still had a job. "You said we got some supplies here?" I asked. "When's the next search party being sent out?" Before I'd even finished my sentence, Anderson was shaking his head.

"You were dragging your feet half of the way here, Private. You need rest, and that's an order. Coleman," he motioned to my brother, "check him out and make sure he's fine." I was suddenly reminded of my own fatigue and the urge to rest; it easily passed my urge to do something productive. A sleeping area had been set up in the back of the store where a storage room had been.

I recounted my story of survival while Peter did a quick check up. "Just a few scrapes and bruises," he concluded. "You just need some sleep." He motioned to the cots that had been set up. Part of me didn't want to rest just yet; I wanted to look around, to ask, and hopefully find out what the hell had just happened and what it meant for us and for the country. But ultimately the physical part of me triumphed and I lay down without asking anyone or saying anything.

_The world moves at its own pace...I'll find out tomorrow._I was asleep right after that thought.

X Tim X

"Ah, fuck," I muttered when I woke up. My head hurt, so I thought at first it was just a hangover. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then, I realized something: I hurt all over. "Fuck," I repeated. That wasn't so unusual either. You ever get so drunk you keep falling down on the pavement? It bangs you up pretty damn bad. Point was I didn't think anything was really wrong when I woke up.

But then I opened my eyes. This time I was too surprised to curse. Wherever I was, it wasn't my room. It was cold and dark. That meant something had happened. But at the moment, stuck in some tiny ass dark space, I was more concerned about myself. Unfortunately, I nearly got myself knocked out while trying to sit up.

"Motherfucker!" I shouted, gripping my head. It didn't feel wet, but it had hurt. Where the hell had I just been? What happened? I couldn't remember! This was not something I ever expected to find myself in. Lying back on the floor, I decided to take a easier approach and actually felt around. There was definitely something hard above me that was shaped weird, like stairs.

Wait. Hadn't I'd been walking up the stairs?

I felt up again. It was definitely stairs. That had to mean I was actually under them. That meant I was in the first floor stairway. How the hell had I gotten underneath them though?

_Fuck this shit. That's what this is._ At least now I knew where to go. It was pitch black, but I knew the general way the stairway was going, and I managed to crawl to where the door was. I was pretty sure I'd heard something happen before I got knocked out, and I had to figure out what the hell it'd been. But first, I had to find Sarah. The world could burn in the meantime for all I cared. I found and door handle and yanked it open, only to find myself staring right into the barrel of a pistol.

"Oh, damn." The person holding it quickly lowered it. "Making all that noise, I nearly shot you!" The guy was wearing a pilot's uniform and looked spooked. I hadn't had a gun shoved in my face in a long time, so I needed a moment to snap out of it.

"What the fuck is your problem, pointing a gun at me?" I thought I'd seen this guy around—one of Waylon's favorites. "Shaun, right? You're a fucking idiot." My anger out of the way, I changed subjects. "What the hell is going on?" I asked. "What are you doing?" I looked around. The hallway looked trashed and some of the ceiling panels had fallen out. The air felt different. I didn't like what I saw.

"Looking for you," Shaun replied, catching me off guard. "You've been missing for a few days. A lot of stuff had happened." He suddenly looked around and sounded serious. People didn't have a reason to do that around here normally, so I was caught off guard.

"Happened?" I asked, my irritation disappearing. "Something happen up north?" The last war never really ended; nowadays it was just waged by idiotic politicians shouting at each other over a table. The military got dragged into it every now and then, but things never really escalated. _Fucking talkies, that's what it is. _Shaun shook his head.

"Something happened all over. The base is gone, man. I'm pretty sure we're at war." His seriousness didn't break at all when he said it. I stood there and stared at him. I'd just woken up and still had a God-awful headache and now I was being told we were at war. That was too much for my mind to process. "Actually," he realized I wasn't following what he'd said, "I'll let your lady friend explain it."

"Where is she?" I demanded, snapping out of my daze. _Let me see her first, and then I can figure out all this bullshit about war. _I had my priorities straight.

"Other side of the building, I think. Just follow me." He turned and filled me in as we walked. "Things went to hell about two days ago, man. You were missing and your lady friend was _freaking out _about it. I mean, goddamn, dude…" I missed the rest of the words because I nearly had a heart attack. Sarah had been freaking out about me? She was a nice woman, normally, but if the wrong buttons were pressed things could get really ugly. It hadn't happened in a few years, though.

_Talk about a bad day._

"Look who I found!" Shaun shouted loudly once we'd gotten to the second floor of the building, which looked like it'd been ransacked—it probably had. Two more guys in a pilot's uniform came out of some of the rooms to look.

"You finally found him? Thank goodness." They both looked actually relieved to see me. "I swear she was about to start shooting us if we didn't find something." He turned to me. "Where the hell were you? We couldn't find your body." Bodies? What had I slept through? Wait a minute; priorities first.

"Is Sarah around here?" I demanded. "Well?" I said in frustration when they just stared at me. They all pointed at me, or more likely _behind _me. Ah, hell. I felt someone tap me on the back. I turned around and found her standing there in her flight suit, arms crossed and tapping her foot on the ground. She didn't look happy, but I only cared about the fact that she was still here. She opened her mouth and I was pretty sure she was about to chew me out, but one of the pilots interrupted us.

"There, he's alive. Happy now?" How hard had Sarah been railing on these guys? If she was about to spew profanities in front of these guys, my appearance caused her to suddenly deflate in front them.

"I guess," she huffed. Just hearing that familiar sound helped me calm down from the massive amount of crap I'd taken in the past few minutes.

"Then, let's go. I don't think this building is even safe," Shaun complained.

"Oh, fine," Sarah huffed again, "c'mon." She grabbed my arm and we both followed the other three guys back to the ground floor. Sarah looked pleased as we were walking on what was left of the building, but now that I knew she was okay, I had a ton of questions to ask. I tried to think of something to say.

"Don't talk," Sarah warned me. That was another talent of hers: she was apparently a mind reader. "Let me just enjoy the fact that you're still here."

"Yeah, yeah. Jeez, you two need to get a room." One of the pilots complained as we reached the first floor. "We're going to go join everyone else who survived. You two coming with us?" At that moment, Sarah stopped, which meant I stopped, too.

"We'll be along," Sarah said sweetly. I flinched when her grip on my arm became a lot painful. "Excuse us for a second." She started dragging me towards the closest door she could see—the laundry room. The fighter pilots exchanged looks, shrugged at each other, and kept heading for the front door.

_Did I do something wrong?_ Sarah didn't normally drag me off somewhere with a death grip, and she sure as hell didn't normally 'sweet talk' other people. I got my answer when, as soon as the door closest behind us, she let go of my arm and whirled around at me, raising both her arms.

"Where. The. Fuck. Have. You. _Been?_" Each word was punctuated with a punch to the shoulder. The last word came out as a screech, and I tried and failed to block her. She was small, but she moved fast. Not exactly the reunion I'd hoped for.

"Sarah, calm down!" I tried to grab her arms; I was genuinely freaked out. "Cool your jets, okay?" I froze where she raised her head to stare at me eye-to-eye. She wasn't just livid; she was fucking pissed. That didn't happen often, and when it did she could be pretty violent, so I sure as hell didn't want to be the one she was mad at. Seeing me start to freak out calmed her down a little, though. She stopped struggling and dropped her arms, still heaving.

"Sorry," she said, trying to smooth out her hair. "You just scared me." She said the following words in a calmer tone. "I seriously thought you were dead for a while." I suddenly felt like an ass, even if it hadn't been my fault.

"No, I'm sorry." I put a hand on her shoulder. We'd been close since we were five. We'd done everything together when we grew up, and gotten through a lot of... unpleasant experiences growing up. Whatever had happened must've been bad, so obviously we both assumed we'd get through it together. Anything different would be impossible. Hell, I' knew I'd have done the same. Why blame her?

"You're fine." She shook her head in reply. "I'm fine. You're fine. The world is fucked, but we're fine since you're here now." She tried to regain her composure. There was an awkward silence after that, since we weren't used to arguments or moments like this. "Why don't we go meet the others?" Sarah suggested. That crisis within my own important world was finally over, I could finally be curious about the rest of my existence again.

"Yeah… that sounds like a good idea," I said absentmindedly and headed for the door. My mind needed a few seconds to switch priorities. "What do you mean by 'fucked'? They said something happened? Like a war?" I asked as we walked through the first floor hand in hand, where part of the roof had collapsed. Sarah grimaced, something she rarely did. She'd always been... well, since we'd joined anyway she'd always been the level-headed and calm one. I didn't like seeing her freak out, because it freaked me the fuck out, too.

"We really don't know what it is. You should just look for yourself." She left it at that, and I was kind of on the edge when we finally did walk outside. Now, I was a tough guy. I'd gotten into a lot of fights, seen some weird shit, and dealt with problems most people couldn't imagine. But when we stopped outside, I stopped dead.

"What the fuck?" I shouted, not even bothering to hide my surprise. "What. The. Fuck?" I spun around and nearly broke my neck trying to look around. The base hadn't exactly been pretty to begin with, but now it was a fucking disaster. The sidewalks, or anything paved over for that matter, was cracked and broken. Every building I could see was missing its windows; some of them had collapsed partially or entirely, and definitely were no longer capable of serving their purpose. And this was just the administrative part of the base.

"Goddamn," I muttered turning back to Sarah. "What—" I stopped when I realized she was pointing up, and looked myself. Just like before, I was too surprised to speak. The whole sky was red. Not red like the sun coming up or going down, it was as if a nuclear bomb had gone off. No clouds, no sunlight, and nothing that looked reassuring. My mind shut down, not really built to deal with a slap across the face like that.

"It's scared us all when we woke up," Sarah told me, "but we've gotten used to it, though. Whatever it was, we haven't died of radiation yet." Her words snapped me out of my trance.

"So, we aren't going to die from it?" There was no way I could comprehend the world going to shit, so I just thought about us. "The—that isn't a danger to our health, is it?" I motioned towards the sky. Just looking at it was creeping me out. Sarah shook her head.

"There's a lot more catching-up you'll have to do, but I really think we should just take a break for now. You're still tired, right?" She started dragging me away again without waiting for an answer. I didn't bother resisting. Instead, I tried to get my idiot brain into gear.

_Okay. Something happened and fucked up everything. A lot of people are dead. And we have absolutely no idea what this was._That was everything up to this point, but it was still hard to accept all of that in one gulp. Part of the job description was to shut up and don't think. I decided I'd just do that for a while and let Sarah drag me along. She was calm after all, and she had to know a lot more than I did about whatever had happened.

She led me away from the main buildings and towards the actual airfield where the runways were. The runway was cracked, but it still looked usable. Both the control tower and the radar station had fallen in, however, and the fuel station looked like it had gone up in flames, too. Hell, everything looked like it had been wrecked around here.

I looked further down the runway where the aircraft were usually kept. They kept the fighters in reinforced hangars, and the helicopters and the Sky Raiders usually sat outside against the elements. Some of the hangars had collapsed, definitely wrecking the fighters. Most of the helicopters and Sky Raiders looked just fine, though. Oddly enough, not being under a shelter had spared them.

It was not like there were really any people left to fly them. That was gnawing at my mind: a lot of people on the base were dead, and no doubt a lot of people off the base were, too. The scale of that wasn't registering in my head; I didn't think beyond much the two of us. It'd probably hit me later, along with everything else. We kept walking till we could finally see a group of survivors waiting outside of the hangars that were still standing.

I looked once, blinked, and squinted. "All the survivors are pilots?" I asked. In the Air Force, most of the people who worked in an airbase supported the few pilots who carried out the combat duties. There'd been five hundred people on this base; less than eighty of those had been actual pilots.

"Yeah," Sarah nodded, "at least, anyone who's been found so far." I was still trying to figure out the odds of something like that happening when I got close enough to see all of them.

"Oh, fuck me," I muttered when I saw who they were. It was twelve other people: eleven fighter pilots and one Sky Raider pilot. "And there are only fifteen of us left?"

"We're the only helicopter pilots. Just so it isn't a surprise, Waylon in the fifteenth survivor." Sarah decided to give me all the bad news first.

"Well, shit." I muttered. So many died yet that asshole was spared? It was one bad thing after the other. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around it all, since it still hurt like hell. I just decided to get a good look at the people I was stuck with for the time being.

Like I'd said, most of them were fighter pilots. Including Shaun, there were five guys who were sitting off to one side from Vulture Squadron—the one Waylon personally commanded. The other five sitting opposite them belonged to the other fighter squadron on base. I was wondering why they weren't together until I noticed the old dude sitting with them.

Rodney—everyone just called him by his call sign 'Stone'—was the commander of the other squadron and second-in-command of the entire MOG. He was a tough old bastard who lived through the last war as an ace but got thrown here and forgotten by the top brass. I wasn't exactly friends with the guy, but I appreciated him. He was a serious, down-to-earth, and an all-around decent guy, despite being a 'by the books' type—teamwork, respect your elders and all that shit. Truth be told, I almost felt sorry for him—he lived in glory before losing the war and gotten himself exiled to nowhere, getting older by the day, and surrounded by people who didn't get you. Must've been tough shit.

"Damn shame Waylon lived. I'd prefer the old man myself," I whispered to Sarah since we were closer to them now. She nodded, since she respected him for the same reasons plus the fact that he generally kept the EM's (enlisted men) and officers in order, which meant away from her. "Whatever happened, I don't think Waylon will handle it." Sarah nodded again, looking sour.

Kim, unlucky as she was, was in Waylon's squadron. But instead of sitting with them she was sitting a little outside both groups next to a boy wearing an old-fashioned flight suit. That would've been Eddie, the guy Sarah kept telling me Kim was falling for, despite the fact I simply didn't care. Kid was blond, quiet, and a pushover, just like most of the other reserve pilots in the Air Force. That's all I knew about him and all I really wanted to know.

We awkwardly took seats a little to the side. No one greeted us. In fact, everyone downright looked like shit. I was kind of pissed, but then again I didn't want to have a bunch of people pounding me on the shoulder either. Shit had hit the fan, and they probably didn't know anything about it. Even I didn't act when I knew something big was messed up.

I froze when Sarah leaned over, wrapped her arms around my midsection, and rested her head on my shoulder.

"Sarah," I whispered cautiously, "aren't you being a bit...clingy?"

"Yep." To emphasize her point, she squeezed tighter. "It isn't the first time I've been clingy in public," she justified, making me feel a bit awkward. We had been pretty affectionate... at the orphanage. It was a good part, but I didn't like remembering anything about it. And we'd cooled down from all the 'lovey-dovey' shit from those years to be a bit more... well, not exactly professional, but something. "And you owe me for freaking me out." She had a point there, and she never backed down from anything, anyway. It was awkward as hell, but I just went with it.

No one was complaining at least. Stone was usually a stickler for the rules, but seemed to make an exception due to the circumstances. The other fighter pilots found the ground or the ruined hangers interesting to look at._ Yeah, that's it, keep looking around, nothing much to see here…_ Only Kim and Eddie seemed to notice. Both stared at us for a few moments. I scowled in their direction and they both found something else to look at.

_Fucking kids. Military is full of them._It might have just been because I was getting older, but I always noticed how most of the people in the military these days were below twenty—not surprising when they recruited right out of high school. Hell, they had programs where some sixteen year-olds were already in pilot training. Sarah and I were mature and mostly level-headed. A lot of them pissed me off because they kept jumping from 'serious soldier' to 'jackass' in just a few seconds.

I still had Sarah, but I was stuck with an old man, a bunch of idiots, a complete asshole of a leader, and two kids. I had some luck. I wasn't even sure I wanted to hear what had happened now. I just wanted to sit down, relax, and have something to eat because I suddenly realized my stomach was completely empty.

"There any food around here?" I asked. Someone tossed me something wrapped in plastic—a tuna sandwich. It was better than nothing, so I dug in. The weird thing was no one was talking. Usually, these guys never shut up... and now they were all quiet. It wasn't as unsettling as Sarah acting weird, but I still noticed.

The sandwich helped... some. I was still hungry, tired, and confused when I was done. Socializing had never been my strong point, and no one else wanted to talk, so I just joined the silence. _My type of plan._ Something would happen eventually, it always did.

"Well, look who joined the party!" Thanks to Sarah's warning, I didn't get that worked up when Waylon finally showed up behind us and gave me a light punch on the shoulder before passing us and sitting down in the circle, still out of uniform. "Didn't think anyone would've made it, but I guess no one can keep the party people down for long!"

"It's a goddamn weird set up," I looked around again, ignoring him. Not only was it all pilots, but it was people who knew each other. That was a hell of a coincidence. "Are you guys sure this is everyone?"

"Eh, that's all we could find." Waylon shrugged and pulled out some of his own food and ate. Technically, everyone here had been under his command. And he didn't even care that they were gone. Damn, that was still hard to believe. I turned my energy elsewhere, since I seemed to be the only sane one here.

"So is sitting around here what everyone's been doing in the past few days? No trying to figure out what happened?" I asked. This whole thing looked iffy to me. So what if we had food? It'd run out eventually. Then, what? We'd be eating each other?

"Chill, brotha man," Waylon shook his head, "we ain't heard anything from the top brass yet, so we're staying here for the time being. Everyone's just fine." Things really were messed up here. How could anyone be calm about it? Sarah probably sensed me tensing up, because she squeezed tightly enough to make me flinch. Don't start anything, she seemed to be saying, but still...

"But since we're all here, anyone here have any new ideas?" Waylon talked through a mouthful of food. Everyone looked at each other and shrugged. We heard something that sounded like 'maybe' and saw Eddie raise his hand. Whatever he said after that, we didn't hear it.

"Speak up, pipsqueak," Shaun demanded. Sky Raider pilots were at the bottom of the ladder because they were usually the people with the lowest flying scores or they had something wrong with them. It was the natural pecking order.

"Maybe we should try finding a radio again?" He didn't say it any louder, but since we were all listening, we caught it this time. Had they tried to reach anyone else? We were pretty far off the map. Still, if they'd found a radio...

"We already tried that. Didn't work." Shaun just waved him off.

"I just thought that maybe someone somewhere else will be around this time?" Like last time, he didn't bother raising his voice.

"I doubt it." One of the pilots disagreed just for the hell of it. Out here, even people in the military got bored and lazy.

"Well, I think it's worth checking out again!" Waylon declared it like people actually gave a shit about his opinion. "So, if you'll follow me, I'm sure we'll find a solution to all our problems!" Predictably, everyone got up. They didn't have anything to look forward to but news. With Waylon in the lead and Stone following him, pretty much all of them except the two of us headed towards one of the hangars still standing, which was probably used as a shelter now that the living quarters were wrecked. I blinked and tried to take in the conversation over the last few minutes.

"Still confused?" Sarah asked me when I started shaking my head as the others walked away.

"Yeah, very," I said, looking up at the sky. Everyone was acting weird because of... whatever that was. "If that isn't nuclear weapons, what the hell is it? Is there a war going on?" Sarah shrugged.

"We don't know. We haven't left the base since, and we haven't heard anything from the outside, either. We've all kind of calmed down about it."

"Just going with it, huh?" I didn't see a problem with that. We didn't have any orders, so they couldn't be surprised if we just stayed put. Aside from that, we couldn't operate that much without any support people around. "You've been okay the past few days, right?" I still kind of felt bad for scaring her like that.

"No, I was freaking out about you," she said in an accusing tone. "Where were you, anyway?"

"Under the stairs," I explained, "must've fell over the side and wound up there during the earthquake. Honestly." I added when Sarah made a face at my excuse. She finally let go of me and stalked away a few steps.

"You still should've woken up sooner," she pouted. I knew she wasn't serious; she did things like that to mess with me. It worked every time, not that I really minded.

"What if I say I'm sorry?" I asked.

"Oh, fine." She scooted over and grabbed my arm. "But you aren't leaving my side, got it? From now on, you're be exactly where I can always see you, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah," I waved my arms. "Sheesh." I stiffened when Sarah hugged me.

"Thank you." She really meant that. I wasn't used to lovey-dovey stuff like this.

"You're really freaked out about this, aren't you?" I asked. "You're really acting weird." I got a punch between the shoulder blades for that.

"The whole world just turned upside down. Aren't you concerned?" She stepped back and glared at me.

"You're still here." I answered honestly and got a thump on the head. "You don't need to remind me." I got serious and looked at her. "Something real fucked up is going on. I'm not going to get worked up over it just yet because I don't know what it is and we've got a few days to think about it. No point jumping into things."

"I guess that is our only available option at the moment," Sarah admitted. We both stared at the sky. At that moment, I could feel it: I could just tell something was different in the world now. And I knew that whatever it was, neither of us was going to like it.

_Life's fucked over everyone this time. It's going to get ugly._

X Northwest Rubinelle X

It was a small town, built in a valley just off one of the hundreds of major highways that connected all of Rubinelle. When disaster had rained on the land, it had spared the small hamlet of about 2,000 people while destroying nearly everything around them. At first, its citizens had been confused and afraid. And then the pillaging began...

With society torn apart in a matter of minutes, people had suddenly realized they were on their own, and had sought out ways to continue to live, no matter the cost. Survivors from miles around heard about a town that was untouched, that had food and water and utilities, and they naturally flocked there for help. At first, it had only been a hundred or so refugees that the town had been happy to help and share what they could.

But then _they_ had come. No one had known who they were or where they'd come from. They descended on the small town without warning, stealing everything they could from stores and homes while killing whoever got in their way. Mostly because part of the townspeople was armed, they'd eventually been sent running, but only after having killed two hundred citizens and refugees. It had been a rude awakening for the townspeople, who assumed help would have arrived soon.

Then, four days after the world had been destroyed, the mob, dubbed 'raiders' by the townspeople, had returned. This time, they'd brought weapons and vehicles the likes of which the townspeople hadn't seen outside of war movies. They ransacked the town, taking nearly everything that was left, and slaughtered all but three hundred people who had fled in time. None of them had risked returning to the town after that for fear of their lives, and many started to fear help would never come.

Just when hope seemed lost, help had arrived in the form of a Rubinelle Army column traveling along the highway close to town. They'd found the hungry and frightened refugees and had moved them back into town, promising their protection. When some of the citizens expressed their fears, one of the many soldiers belonging to the column responded: 'The 12th Battalion will never leave anyone to suffer, whatever the cost.'

The 12th Battalion, who dubbed themselves 'Brenner's Wolves', had originally been raised as a new battalion of the expanded 1st Rubinelle Armored Division during the last war, in which its members had distinguished themselves as masters of armored warfare. By the war's end though, the unit had been all but destroyed and was dissolved in the post-war redistribution of forces. Thirteen years after, the 12th Battalion had been reactivated as an independent unit and stationed in northwest Rubinelle as part of a wider effort to rebuild the military.

Even after the disaster, the battalion still had a nearly full complement of 1,200 officers and enlisted men. This included twenty-eight heavy tanks arranged into two companies, twenty-eight light tanks arranged into two companies, two companies of infantry and APCs to transport them, an artillery platoon, an anti-air platoon, a scouting platoon, the headquarters company, and a combat-support company. Being a secondary unit, its equipment was a mix of older and newer items, but anyone who thought them inadequate soldiers would be in for a rude awakening

The band of raiders had learned that when they tried one more time to finally clean out the town. They'd run into trained killers equipped with weapons even more powerful than their own. Most of their men had been slaughtered by artillery before they even got into the town, and the rest had fled without even seeing who had attacked them. After that, some of the troops went out to find where the raiders were and managed to take back some of the stolen supplies. When the fighting was over, most of the survivors had regained the hope that perhaps things were not as bad as they had been.

Inside the town's small police station, specifically the break room, the aging sheriff smoothed down his white hair as he approached the man who had saved them all He was a tall, stocky, and blond man who wore a thick tanker's jacket. Despite his weathered face and intimidating physique, he was a kind man and had done everything in his power to help the locals here. When the world had been destroyed, he had been the one who rallied his confused and frightened men to follow him in his quest.

"Captain Brenner," the sheriff addressed the military officer respectfully and shook his hand. "Again, I can't thank you enough for what you've done for the people here. We might all be dead right now if it wasn't for you." Captain Brenner smiled and shook his head.

"We weren't just passing by. I'm only sorry we couldn't have gotten here earlier," Brenner responded in earnest. Both men paused for a moment, saddened at the thought of the many innocent lives already taken before Brenner spoke again. "Have you considered our offer yet?" The sheriff suddenly looked apprehensive.

"I haven't run it by the townspeople yet," he admitted. "You're asking these people to pack up everything and leave their homes behind even after you saved it. Some people won't like it."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Brenner apologized. "But my men and I have to search for more survivors, and I'd rather your people come along so they'll be safe. I'll speak to them myself, if you think it would help," Brenner offered.

"Naw," the sheriff shook his head. "I'll run it by them myself. They've elected me for thirty years straight; they trust me. But, Captain... I can't promise anything."

"I understand," Brenner nodded.

"As long as you do. We're forever grateful, but we'll stay here and try to carve out an existence if we can, even with this business you're claiming about meteors and all that." That said, he turned and started to leave the room, only to stop by the doorway and step over to the side. "Ma'am." He tipped his hat at the dark-haired woman who passed him.

"Lieutenant Lin," Brenner acknowledged the battalion's main intelligence expert and his executive officer as she came up to him.

"Captain," she saluted the 12th Battalion's commander. Brenner had only ascended to the position a few months ago because of several factors within the officer corps, and had chosen Lin as his aide. Together, they'd vastly improved the combat abilities and the personnel standards of the battalion, as well as gaining the unquestioning respect and obedience of the men, even the few who were of equal rank to Brenner.

"So, who are these raiders? Have you made any progress?" Brenner asked. This hadn't been his unit's first encounter with pillagers and unruly citizens, but it had been the first time against such a large and unusually well-equipped group. He'd asked Lin to look into the matter.

"Some," she confirmed. "I had some of the men bring in the bodies for examination. A few appear to be inmates from a prison south of here. Others appear to be common criminals." No surprises there, Brenner thought, but he could tell Lin wasn't finished speaking. "Some had National Guard uniforms on. That's likely where some of the vehicles and heavier weapons came from."

"Deserters..." Brenner said in a mix of disappointment and disgust.

"Yes. Mostly they use old equipment," Lin reminded him, "but they brought in at least one body that was wearing a regular Army uniform. It had the patch of the 11th Armored Brigade." Brenner was caught by surprise because the 11th Brigade, an independent unit like the 12th Battalion, was based many miles east of where they were now. "This problem may cover more than just this area, sir. I'm not sure how, but something or someone is keeping these men together and surprisingly well-organized."

Brenner look thoughtful for a moment before pulling a map out of one of his pockets and unfolded it. It showed a detailed map of western Rubinelle, and was marked with various points. "We'll have to keep an eye out, then, but I think it might be a good idea to stop by more towns as we head northwest." Lin looked at the map and nodded.

"Are you hoping we'll find more soldiers?" Most of the places Brenner had marked were military bases closest to the 12th Battalion, including a tank training school, several airfields, barracks for part of a Marine regiment, and a military academy.

"Yes," Brenner confirmed, "the more men we get to help us, the more people I'm sure we can save." Lin nodded.

"How soon are we moving out?"

"Hopefully tomorrow," Brenner answered. "We have a lot of ground to cover. I want at least part of the battalion prepped for immediate combat at anytime. We have absolutely no idea what's out there."


	4. Chapter 3

X James X

It was a new day. It was also the first day of real work. Not practicing, not preparing, not pretended. Real soldiering. I wasn't going to tackle the day with anything but vigor. Soldiers' internal clocks was always synched, and we were all up around the same time, even if I'd gone to sleep before any of them. We'd slept in our uniforms and the first thing we did was put on our gear. I selected the one M4 they had scavenged from the small stockpile of weapons for myself.

"We have a system." Sergeant Anson explained to me while we all ate morning chow- cold biscuits. "One person will usually stay here to guard the radio we recovered and the supplies. The rest will patrol the city for survivors, supplies, or transportation."

"Yeah, then we can get up north where the real action is." Sam butted in. "I'd say we're almost on the Lazurian mainland by now."

"We don't know that. Remember your place on the chain, private." Sergeant Anderson warned. "Besides, they're probably in the same boat we are." Despite having faced Lazuria before, Anderson shrugged them off as a minor threat. To me, they didn't seem immediate anyway.

"The plan is to link up with friendly forces and try see what develops from there." Sergeant Anson finished. "Considering how densely populated it is along the coast, the damage way be worse there."

"Lot of the Army is probably tied down with disaster relief work." Peter said thoughtfully. I believed it. They did occasionally mobilize some infantry divisions during disasters to help out, and this was clearly a very huge disaster. I wouldn't mind that job at all.

"Some disaster." I remembered what I'd see yesterday. "Country is going to have a hard time rebuilding."

"We pulled through after the last war, private." Sergeant Anderson reminded me. "Whole north coast wrecked, every factory within 100 miles of it turned to rubble, the electrical grid gone to shit, and all kinds of problems. And we got the country back to stable in eight years. We can do it again." He got up. "About time for the patrol to head out." He decided. "My turn for guard duty. Riley, you take them out and see what you can find."

The breakfast hadn't been good, but it had been filling. We all stood up and checked to ensure we had our kits. After that, Sgt. Anson led Sam, Peter, and me out into the city for the patrol. Stepping back into the cold made me shiver for a moment, but I composed myself quickly. The city was as deathly quiet as I remembered it. Had the others been unlucky? Could there still be people out there?

_I hope so._

"Remember." Sgt. Anson spoke as we left the street and headed for the small housing section of the city. "Keep an eye out for supplies, people, and transportation."

"Got it sarge." Sam seemed to like the surroundings the least of us; he was glancing around and, even though it had to be uncomfortable, kept his M16 in front of him most of the time. But I wasn't scared. I doubted we'd find any real combat here; we were a long way from the coast.

Right now, we were rescuers. In all likelihood, that was what we'd be for the foreseeable future. It was long road ahead, but I was confident, I was willing, and I was ready.

X Tim X

It's amazing how slow some days can pass. Whatever had happened, the sun was gone, so we had no way to tell just how long we were here. I'm pretty sure it was a few days at least, in which we'd found nothing. Everyone just kind of went through each day in a daze, waiting for something to happen. Either they lounged inside the hangar where the scavenged supplies were, or they just walked around the base looking for more supplies. I sure as hell wasn't going to do that though; the place reeked. We all knew damn well why but we couldn't do anything about it.

Just like Sarah had insisted, we stayed together no matter what and away from other people at the same time. After being separated by work, bunking rules, and Sarah and Kim's friendship, it felt kind of weird that we were spending all our time together again. It felt good, though.

"I missed this." Sarah and I stayed mostly in the hangar and waited with everyone else. Truth was part of the base still had electricity and plumbing; the building foundations were completely wrecked, though. The hangars had survived because they were reinforced. Even though it was cold and we had to risk going into the other buildings to get running water, it was still the safest option.

Sarah and I decided to make ourselves comfortable at least, since it was suddenly pretty damn cold outside, along with everything else. We found this little cranny between three stacks of crates, set a few blankets and pillows that we'd ransacked from the living quarters, and laid there together with a few more blankets thrown over us. Sleeping together after a long time had also felt weird, but I enjoyed it.

"It's something good, anyway," I agreed. I had one of my arms wrapped around her. "At the very least, it's a distraction." After a day or two with some food, a comfortable bed, and sane company, I felt a hell of a lot better. My own shit still wasn't in order, though. I'd spent the last few days thinking about what happened and how it affected us and got exactly nowhere. The others, or probably just a few of them, were thinking the same as well.

There was one thing everyone had in common in their minds: what _would _happen _now_? I'd thought about that question, and it was making me nervous. Sarah had brought it up as well, and she didn't like it either. We were both looking at the future: something we sure as hell didn't do all that often. More specifically, _our _future.

Joining the Air Force had been kind of a stop-gap measure to us, now that I'd thought about it. And what would happen to us if war had broken out? Well, we'd fight a good fight and probably get ourselves shot down. The idea hadn't bothered us that much. Getting old and kicked out? That was something neither of us had wanted to think about. But after all that happened now? Hell if either of us knew.

We'd lived in security and comfort because of this base. We had a home with stuff like running water and electricity, and food was always available. How would we live without it? We were about to find out, and I sure as hell didn't look forward to it. Sarah was definitely uncomfortable with the living arrangements, even though she didn't complain all that much. She... still had some problems at her age. They were never mentioned, and thanks to how comfortable the base was, they'd never been noticed. Now? I was sure she was thinking about it, too. It was making us both uncomfortable as hell.

_Fuck. I really don't like thinking about stuff like this._It was really out of my comfort zone. It was kind of fucked up in a way: we were more worried about our living conditions than the idea of war. Well, the idea of people wanting to kill each other was natural. Neither of us had ever claimed to be right in the head. We hadn't come to any conclusions; that seemed to be the one thing none of the survivors could do.

It was only after four days (more or less, I couldn't have known) that Sarah finally stopped dragging me behind her everywhere. I wasn't mad about it, of course, but I was glad I got some space. We'd been getting a lot of weird looks in the past few days. _Nosy assholes._ She'd finally gone off to hang around with Kim for a while to discuss whatever the hell it was women discussed. Since lying around in a hangar alone wasn't much fun, I decided to stretch my legs just for the hell of it, and I kinda wanted to keep in good shape, too.

As I went out, I saw Stone standing in the middle of the runway, just staring at the red sky that hadn't changed a whit. I got curious and, since Sarah had never really managed to nail some manners into me, I decided to go see what he was doing. It was a good opportunity to pick his brains for a few answers.

"You ever saw anything like this?" I asked as I walked up behind him. He glanced back at me and looked around. Everyone had noticed Sarah clinging onto me, so I imagined he was looking for her. If the old man didn't like the fact, he didn't show it.

"No," he said as he shook his head. He was a straight-to-the-point, get-into-business kind of guy—another reason I liked him. "It doesn't look like any weapon I've seen." The few times anyone had bothered discussing what had happened, it went back and forth between Lazuria, something of our own that we fucked up, or a natural disaster. I hadn't picked a side, but I trusted Stone's judgment.

"And we're still here." Sarah may have had some practice at it, but I didn't sneak a question in; I went for the throat. "How come that happened? Someone should take charge already and make stuff happen." The old man caught on immediately.

"Captain Waylon is the real commander of this unit," Stone answered, "and I believe he'll safeguard the lives of those under his command."

_Translation: He'll make sure his ass stays far away from trouble, just like everyone else always does._

"Furthermore, there's no dissent in the ranks," Stone continued, which made me think about something new: how far would some of the pilots follow Waylon? Sure, he wasn't a hard ass about rules, but would that really matter now? It might have; people were idiots. "It's dangerous to overthrow authority, because it sets a precedent," Stone finished.

"Huh," I nodded in reply, "I guess." I was still kind of surprised he willingly answered a question about a possible mutiny, but he made sense. "Still, something needs to happen soon." He had to agree with me there. That meant the only thing left to do was wait... again. The next day (I assumed; there really was no way of telling), something _did _happen.

Everyone had been lounging around the hangar, eating stale food and drinking stale bottled water. Waylon wasn't his normal self of an asshole. Actually, I noticed that he looked kind of pissed. A couple of pilots from his own squadron kept glancing at him, like they were waiting for something. After the fifth time, Waylon, looking annoyed, stood up and called for everyone's attention.

"Okay, a basic question for all you folks: does everyone here know how to work their own ride?" Glances were exchanged. Sarah, who was sitting in my lap, and I exchanged looks. We knew how to fly and fight, that was damn sure. But maintaining the helicopter? Eh, we knew just some of the basics. Still, there'd been about fifty trained guys assigned to maintain all eight helicopters of our squadron. The two of us could probably keep it okay for a while, but for long? Not really.

"Well then, start looking around. Make sure they can fly, and put some weapons on them," Waylon went on before most people had taken in whatever he was saying, "'cause we're getting out of this dump to find somewhere else better to stay." He sounded grouchy, even though what he was saying was music to my ears. "We'll leave tomorrow—some leathernecks north of here should welcome us." Having delivered the orders in the laziest way possible, he just walked out of the hangar after that, leaving everyone where they were.

Conversation broke out among the pilots in Waylon's squadron, while Stone ordered over all his pilots and Eddie. Sarah and I stayed in our spot. "Looks like something's finally happening," Sarah stated.

"I guess," I answered, suddenly uninterested in finishing what passed as a meal here. I was glad something had happened, definitely... but I was uneasy about it all the same. Like I said, we'd gotten used to being here. To pack up and leave, well... Hopefully we'd find a better place. "I guess we better go check out our helicopter, huh?" If I was working on something else, I wouldn't have time to think about it.

"We should," Sarah agreed, and we both got up. Stone nodded at us as we left, and most of the others were behind us as we walked across the runway to where the aircraft were kept. The helicopters were kept on a stretch of concrete on the far side, away from the hangars for safety reasons. Six of the eight were still sitting there; two seemed to have been knocked over by something and one of them had gone up in flames afterwards. In spite of all the shit that had happened recently, I couldn't help but grin when I saw ours still sitting upright.

It was an AH-64 Apache, the standard attack helicopter for the whole Armed Forces, though its purpose varied by branch. It had machine cannons underneath, rocket pods on the side, and pylons for missiles to boot. This thing could rain down hell like you couldn't believe. If you flew one of these babies, you ruled everyone below you. That's why I loved it. _Gotta enjoy that while I got it._

"I'll check the weapons. You check the engine," Sarah suggested as we got to work. Like I said, we knew some of the technical aspects of this thing, not just how to use it. Luckily, the thing seemed completely unaffected. We had to brush dust off the whole thing though, but other than that everything looked just fine. I'd liked to take it for a test flight just to make sure, but for all I knew fuel was scarce. That reminded me...

"We've got to rearm and refuel this thing by ourselves?" I grumbled.

"We do know how, don't we?" Sarah asked. She was right; we'd seen it done enough times to have a general idea. For fuel, you just had to roll a truck up, secure the nozzle, and fill it up. For the rockets, you just had to slide them into the pod. The missiles had to fastened onto the rail, and the gun underneath... we'd figure that part out. First, we needed to get all those things here.

Considering this was normally a job some two hundred people usually did with officers directing them, it was no surprise we got nowhere with it at first. Stone noticed and, since Waylon didn't seem that concerned with our progress, rallied everyone and started directing efforts. I sure as hell didn't mind; it was a good idea.

Some people were sent to go get fuel. While the fuel station had gone up, some of the individual fueling trucks that carted the stuff around had survived. Some guys got those and drove them to where all the aircraft were. An hour after Stone had called everyone to get ready; everything was fueled and ready to go. And then it was the turn of the weapons, which had been kept in underground bunkers on the outskirts of the base.

Once we'd stepped inside, we realized how lucky we were this place hadn't gone up in smoke like the fuel station. A whole lot of stuff was tipped over or had fallen to the ground. There'd even been a few bodies in there, crushed under fallen munitions. Real disgusting shit, even if I'd seen a person or two get killed before. Still, a lot of the stuff was usable, so we'd loaded it onto carts and, over a few hours, painfully wheeled all the stuff back to the airfield. Thanks to Stone, we had weapons for our aircraft.

_He sure is a real reliable guy. Top brass must've been idiots to let him go._ Waylon had started participating after the weapons came back, though. Guy actually looked kind of eager... It made me wonder, though... _He is a good fighter pilot—but he's always avoided a fight. What is he thinking?_

With the cart nearby, Sarah and I armed the helicopter ourselves. The chain gun hadn't been too hard to figure out, and we'd gotten that done in a few minutes. The eight missiles had been a real pain in the ass though; they weighed about a hundred pounds each. Usually a team of about four guys lifted them into place—Sarah and I had to do it on our own. I was pretty damn strong, and Sarah wasn't a pushover either, but, damn, my arms hurt afterwards.

"Fuck me," I muttered once the last one was attached. That left the rockets. But first, I needed a breather. "You know," I panted to Sarah as I slumped down, "I never really appreciated those guys before. I kind of miss them now."

"Mhm." Sarah was still standing up, stretching. "Hey, I'm going to the bathroom."

"Does that mean you're going to drag me along again?" When Sarah had said 'stay by my side', she'd damn well meant it, although in those instances she just made me wait outside the stall. She shook her head this time, though.

"No, I'll go find Kim and have her come with me. Just make sure these get loaded, all right?"

"Got it," I nodded and she walked off. I scratched one side of my face, which was in the early stages of growing a beard, and yawned. "Weird," I commented to myself. Sarah had been the clingy type when we were young because, well... no one had really been nice to her... and I usually protected her. _Damn, it's weird to remember things like that. _But this time? I wasn't sure. She took care of herself _and_ me as well; as far as I could tell, she didn't need me around all that much. Maybe it was just her preference?

I grunted and pushed myself back up. _What do I care? _What Sarah wanted, she usually got, even if I didn't understand. She deserved that much. Besides, finding a reason would probably mean thinking back to all those things that happened through the years... I started working again, picking up each of the thin little rockets and sliding them into the pods. They were small, but fire a few of them and they made a pretty big bang. I finished that part pretty damn quickly. After that, I checked everything over one more time. As far as I could tell, we were ready for anything.

That job done, I walked a few paces behind the helicopter and unzipped my fly. When that was done, I walked the other way and looked further down the runway where everyone else was. The fighter pilots were having an easier time, since all they had to load were some light anti-air missiles, plus a few cannon rounds. Not too far from the helicopters were the Sky Raiders, where Eddie was busy trying to load the heavy iron bombs and rockets that were usually strapped under the wings. He wasn't having a lot of luck. How long was he going to keep up? _It's survival of the fittest, kiddo. _Even if the Air Force had tried to pound all that shit about 'brotherhood' and 'comradeship, and even though I'd come to think of some of the people here as okay enough, I still knew I'd fall back to self-preservation if things got to their lowest, which actually seemed pretty damn close now. How would this group hold up if things really did get bad?

Sarah came back a few minutes later, and was pleased with how I'd done. After another hour, pretty much everyone had finished and checked their work: everything was ready. Waylon came by and looked at every plane and our helicopter before everyone turned in for some sleep. "Not bad!" He said loudly when he saw our helicopter. Forget earlier; he actually looked eager now, grinning and everything. That kind of freaked us out.

We all retired to the hangar after that. I'd noticed along the way that Waylon's personal fighter hadn't been loaded completely with missiles; it had a few cargo pods attached. When I'd seen what everyone had been getting for dinner, I put two and two together: the bastard was hogging everything. That was bribery if I ever saw it. _Pretty smart guy for an asshole._

"We got a big day, tomorrow people!" He clapped his hands to grab everyone's attention as he ate. "We might have to fight or we might not have to fight. Either way, don't cramp each other's styles." Had that been a 'stick together' speech? Whatever the hell it was, he seemed to think it was a good enough speech before everyone turned in for the day and left everyone to their own devices. Well aware of what tomorrow meant, everyone pretty much decided to go to bed. Sarah and I had tucked away in our little space before most people had even finished eating.

"Tomorrow's going to be some day, huh?" Sarah asked me once everyone else had settled down and was asleep. I'd nearly been asleep before she spoke.

"Yeah, probably," I agreed. "If this is a war, things definitely will be interesting." I'd never been one to back down from a fight. Still, fists never can compare to that glorious machine out there. "Worried?" I asked, unable to forget how weird she'd been acting recently.

"It's just kind of strange," she answered, rolling over so she was right on top of me. It was a damn shame there wasn't somewhere more private around here; otherwise we wouldn't be as stressed. "We were so comfortable around here... and now it's all gone. I just have a feeling it's never going to be the same again."

"You're over thinking." I said uneasily. "I'm sure there are some people still out there and things are still normal... somewhere."

"Maybe." Sarah didn't sound so convinced. I hoped to hell I was right even though Sarah usually guessed these things spot on. I did not like change. Things here had been okay and worry-free. I sure as hell didn't want anything different. Even if Sarah had drifted off on top of me, I still had a hard time falling asleep.

I wasn't sure if it was morning all ready when everyone had gotten back up, but it might as well have been. Everyone seemed excited except for Sarah and I. Everyone ate and talked about what they expected to find. Pretty much everyone was hopeful we'd find someone up there, since up north was where most of the military actually was. I wanted to agree with them, but I couldn't. I always had this weird feeling with me that wouldn't go away…

After everyone had eaten, maps and directions were given out. The fighters were fast, the Sky Raider slower, and our helicopter was the slowest. Travelling together was out of the question. Instead, everyone was being given directions to the destination so everyone could get there separately. At least it'd be a quiet journey; I knew some of these guys bickered a lot over the radio.

"All right, let's go!" For reasons I still couldn't understand, Waylon was excited as ever to leave now. "There's nothing left for us in this dump." Captain Jackass killed the excitement in the blink of an eye.

"We lost a lot people here..." Kim was the one who said it. It was, surprisingly, enough to make Waylon pause. It was only for a moment though, and then he shrugged.

"The dead are dead. No point moping over them," Waylon said, actually sounding a bit solemn. I knew that he was right about the dead staying dead, but he said it in a pretty bad way.

"We shouldn't forget them, though," Sarah spoke up. She hadn't known anyone else here except for Kim and me, but I guess she was right in a way. There'd been some pretty decent people here.

"Right, right," Waylon nodded. He let the silence exist for a few moments. "Let's get going then!" And like that, he walked out of the hangar, which we'd already cleaned out of everything we could salvage from the base—which hadn't been much. Everyone got up and followed at a slower pace. If Waylon had kept his mouth shut, we might've been a little more excited.

"I think you're right about having a bad feeling about all this," I admitted to Sarah as we broke off from the main group and headed for the helicopters. "I really don't like how Waylon is acting all of a sudden. We still have no idea what happened, and we have no idea what the hell to expect where we're going."

"Have we ever known where we were going?" Sarah stumped me with that. "Whatever it is, we'll face it when we come to it. Together," she finished. Well, that made things seem less scary... but scary nevertheless.

X James X

Whistling with my rifle in front of me, I turned and began walking back. Whistling seemed to be the only medication to keep my sanity in place—this town was a nightmare. It'd been a few days now, and I'd gone out there a few times. There were no survivors, just bodies—hundreds of bodies. It had a very powerful effect on us. We'd enlisted and vowed to keep these people safe, but now they were dead. _We failed._ The thought made me sick every time it crossed my mind. We kept searching in the vain hope that there was someone out there.

Our other objective was still to search for a means of transportation to head up north. We were far from the only friendly force in this part of the country: there was an Army Corps in the state north of here and our plan was to meet up with them. Even if we lacked our air assault capabilities, we were still damn good infantrymen, and they'd know what was going on. I made that my main goal, blocking out absolutely everything else.

It was my day for guard duty, so I was patrolling around the gas station. We'd put up metal sheets around the windows in a effort to make the store defendable. Just to make sure, we pushed some cars over to block the lot entrance. If on the small chance someone did attack, we'd have a defensive advantage. Despite the loneliness and the cold, I was partially grateful it was my duty at the time. It was really hard to search our surroundings, to see all the dead faces frozen in looks of shock or fear. _How long had some of them taken to die?_

Sighing, I sat back down near the front window beside the radio, which I'd set outside. It was a small field radio, mostly used by lieutenants and captains in the field to communicate with other troops. It had a small range, too. In all the time we'd been in this city, we hadn't picked up a signal, no matter what channel we set it on. I expected some other part of the Armed Forces would be probing around out here eventually. Though the effort seemed futile, I messed with the frequencies, but I still got static. I shook my head and stood up again to stretch before doing another round at the gas station.

About fifteen minutes later though, something happened. While I was walking in front of the station again, the radio started making a sound, which was unusually loud in the quiet city. I scrambled down beside the machine. At first, it was just a high pitched whine and static, and then I heard something else.

"Adv—*buzz*—stay—*buzz*—watch for—" More static made the rest undecipherable. I grabbed the receiver eagerly.

"Hello? Is anyone out there? Does anyone copy?" I listened closely for a reply. "This is an element of the 18th Heliborne. We're currently set up in the city. Does anyone read, over?" I listened anxiously. Someone was out there, and for the first time in days we could be relieved. No response came back. Still ecstatic, I switched frequencies; the ones who had gone out had another radio with them. "Sgt. Anderson, do you copy?"

"What the hell is going on, Private? You sound excited."

"I just picked up something up on the radio, sir. Sounds like a group of other soldiers are close by. I was unable to establish contact."

"All right, Coleman. Stay put, we're coming back." Sergeant Anderson ended the transmission.

"Yes sir." I stood up and ran out into the street in front of the station, looking everywhere for a sign. If we could find them, things would be a lot better. The thought crossed my mind of what we would do after that. We'd still be expected to fight, though. This nightmare wasn't over, but at least there was some light.

Fifteen minutes later though, my initial relief had turned to anxiety. The others hadn't gone back and the radio had been dead silent for a while now. I hunkered down in front of the doorway to the gas station and waited. I felt an uncomfortable prick on the back of my neck, like I was being watched. Cautiously, I stepped forward to glance down the streets.

BANG.

I flinched and instinctively ducked for the nearest cover behind a wrecked sedan. With my rifle pointed outward, I slowly peeked out. My training left no doubt: that had been a pistol shot. It sounded like it came from the neighborhood behind the gas station. My mind raced—the others hadn't gone that way, so it couldn't have been them. I was by myself, but I couldn't just pretend that didn't happen.

BANG.

Another pistol shot, followed shortly by a scream that made my blood run cold. Kids? That sounded like a kid screaming!

"God damnit!" I swore and started running towards the sound. I cleared the fence behind the gas station and dropped into the alley. Our supplies were important, but so was our mission. I could hear crying now. "Where are you?" I called out, pacing along the fences that separated back yards from the alley. "I'm here to help!" In the silence that surrounded the city, it was easy to tell where the sound was coming from. The crying got louder and louder until I finally saw something through the gaps in an old wooden fence. I roughly kicked it open, the old lock giving in easily. "Jesus Christ," I muttered. Tied up in the middle of the yard with a piece of chain were two little kids, a boy and a girl, who were bruised and with bloodied faces. I slung my rifle back over my back and ran up. "It's okay," I called out. _I'm not letting you die, too._

A hurried set of footsteps behind me caused me to turn around, only for the butt of a rifle to hit me squarely in the face. I saw stars and went down. Through my blurry vision I could see a armed person standing over me, his rifle pointed at my face. Instinct taking over, I kicked up with my leg and knocked it out of his grip before jumping up.

Rather than using his rifle, he swung his right fist, which collided painfully with my face and I went down again. I kicked again, this time at his ankles. He went down. I sat up, drawing my combat knife in the same motion, and stabbed at his arm. He screamed as the knife pierced his skin. At the same time I sunk my left fist into his face. He kicked me in the gut and I rolled over, coughing. He forcefully yanked the knife out before going for his pistol.

But I didn't react. Now that my vision had cleared, I realized something: He was a Rubinelle soldier! He stood up with his M9 drawn and I jumped up.

"What are you doing? Friendly, friendly!" I shouted, keeping my hands in view. The pistol he was grasping in his hands was shaking; there was a wild look in his eyes. Now that I'd gotten a good look at him, I realized that he was quite thin. "Calm down, man, I'm on your side," I said easily. Out of the corner of my eye I checked to make sure the kids were still okay. "We're both Rubinelle, see the uniform? Stand down." I made a motion with my hands. He looked unstable, possibly from hunger. Did the situation break him? Rather slowly, he lowered the gun and I put my hands down.

_Good. He's just a little confused. Some aid and maybe..._

"Put them back up, _now__,__"_ a voice growled behind me. I felt the cold muzzle of a pistol on the back of my neck. I was taken completely by surprise. Two more Rubinelle soldiers appeared beside the one in front of me, their rifles pointed at me.

"What are you guys doing? I'm on your side!" I tried to reason. What was with these guys? They looked thin as well, and parts of their uniform were missing, too. One was carrying a revolver instead of his issued sidearm.

"Shut up." The soldier pressed the pistol into the back of my neck. "Get his weapons." Someone grabbed my rifle and pulled it over my head before taking my pistol from its holster. I was unarmed.

"For much for your great bait plan," one of them said scathingly at the other. Bait? I looked at the kids again. Bait?

"What the fuck are you playing at?" I asked angrily. "Those kids—"

"Quiet!" A hand grabbed the back of my head and shoved me forward onto the ground. I rolled over to see another pair of soldiers, their weapons pointed at me.

"What are you doing? You're a soldier, damn it!" I said angrily. The bastard laughed in reply.

"Oh, that's a good one eh, boys?" The others laughed, as if in agreement. What the fuck was wrong with these people? "Take his weapons back to the truck; just leave those stinkin' brats here." The other soldiers walked off, leaving the kids, their apparent leader, and me. I swallowed hard as I realized that I was completely screwed.

"Why are you doing this? What about duty? What about your oath?" I asked. If I was going to die, I wanted to know what was going on. And if he bothered to stay here, he must've intended to do something. Again, he laughed in reply.

"Duty? Oath? Are you dumb or what? That's all over! Now that the sky has fallen, it's complete anarchy; survival of the fittest. And you haven't made the cut." He smirked. Rather suddenly, the harsh stutter of machine gun fire erupted right beside us. Hit multiple times in the side, the soldier folded and collapsed, dead. Peter appeared at my side, his eyes wide. He put a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm good, get the kids!" I waved him off and stood up, staring at the dead soldier. Sam, Anderson, and Anson appeared shortly after.

"What the fuck did you do?" Sam asked in shock. I couldn't blame him; the dead body was clearly wearing a friendly uniform. Peter hadn't hesitated in the slightest though.

"Shut up and help me here!" Peter picked up one of the kids.

"Grab one and hurry up!" Anderson barked, not hesitating in the slightest either. Still confused, Sam picked up the last child and we quickly retreated back into the alley. "What happened, soldier? Where's your gun?" He demanded, keeping the large M249 LMG pointed back at the yard.

"Some soldier stole them, deserters I think." We moved quickly through a gap in the fence and took off for the gas station. "They didn't look like ours. Probably from a infantry division."

"Deserters? Again? Fuck!" Anderson growled.

"Coleman." Sgt. Anson handed me his sidearm. I pulled back the safety as we all went over the fence and barged inside the gas station. Together with Sam, Peter set the kids down and quickly went to work. They were cut up pretty badly.

"What happened to them?" Peter asked.

"Bait." I quickly explained everything that had happened.

"What the fuck is their problem?" Sam asked in shock.

"Doesn't matter, they're deserters, traitors." Anderson quickly grabbed more ammo from the stockpile. "How many were there?"

"Five. One's dead. They mentioned a truck." I explained.

"Kids as bait? How could anyone do that?" Sam asked in shock, still staring at the boys' bloodied faces.

"They looked pretty bad; they were probably desperate," I said. Sgt. Anson was working with the radio. Rather suddenly it came alive with chatter from what we presumed was the enemy frequency.

"They killed Frank!" A panicked voice reported.

"Where did they go?" A harsh voice demanded in reply.

"We're looking now."

"Find them and kill them. Kill the kids too," the voice snapped in reply. "I'll get a tank over to your area." The line went dead.

"Tank?" Sam said in panic, staring out of the station in fear. The kids were still crying, no doubt after hearing a voice condemning them to death. I was startled, too. I could imagine a few soldiers stealing weapons...but an armored fighting vehicle?

"Rat bastards," Anderson muttered. "Load up on ammo, we're gonna fight!"

"Kill our own guys?" Sam sounded shocked.

"They aren't our guys anymore." He looked at the kids. "They're heartless dogs. Stealing a fucking tank... just like the Jay Islands." I didn't understand the reference, but his anger was clear to see.

"I feel sick," Sam complained as he grabbed some more clips.

"Yeah, it gets to you the first time." Anderson looked out the window.

"Experience sir?" I asked, still trying to collect my thoughts.

"Plenty, desertion was a big problem in the last war." He made sure his LMG wasn't jammed. "Sometimes we'd only be shooting at our own guys."

"That's fucked up, man. They said I would be shooting Lazurians." Sam fiddled with his rifle.

"If you're that squeamish about it, just give me your gun and carry a kid," I suggested. I didn't have my rifle, but they surprisingly hadn't bothered to take the bullets in my vest.

"Sounds fair to me." He tossed it over and I grabbed it. In all honesty, shooting at my own guys didn't set well with me, but just seeing those kids crying left me seething. "Didn't they say they had tanks, though?" He fretted. The thought of several tons of red metal bearing down on us made me shudder.

"Remember your training, soldier, recite the lesson," Anson ordered. Sam thought for a moment.

"'Position yourself in terrain inaccessible to the enemy armor,'" he repeated slowly.

"And?"

"'Most tanks are not designed for urban warfare.'" Sam seemed hopeful as he said it.

"Right, let's just find a parking garage of something, and then we just gotta worry about the grunts." Anderson slung a backpack with his provisions over his shoulder.

"We don't know many of them are out there, remember that," Anson warned. They had trucks, guns, and tanks. Who knew what else they had, or how many of them were there for that matter?

"We're leaving, now," Anderson said firmly as I grabbed some more clips for Sam's rifle. There was still some supplies left, but it wasn't worth staying he for; we had to go now. He positioned himself at the door. I lined up behind him. Sam and Peter got behind me with the kids, who seemed to be calming down. Anson grabbed the radio and took up the rear, a new pistol in hand. This wasn't training anymore. It didn't matter who was out there now. This was real, and they were the enemy.

Despite the tense discussion we had inside, when we rushed outside we were greeted with peaceful silence, disturbed only by the blowing of the wind. Regardless, we moved swiftly across the street and into the backdoor parking lot of a bank. My eyes and ears were alert for anything. We ducked behind a pair of cars and peeked back towards the gas station.

"I don't hear jack," Sam whispered.

"Let's keep it that way, hurry up." Anderson led us onto another street and down the sidewalk. We crossed and headed down another street into another residential area.

"Where are we going?" The boy asked in a raspy voice. It was the first time either of the kids had spoken.

"Somewhere safe," Peter assured him.

"Why are you being nice to us?" The boy went on. Poor kid; he had no idea…

"Well, uh… we're different." Sam sounded like he didn't have much experience with kids.

"But you look the same as them. Why?" The boy said confusedly.

"It's a grown-up thing kiddo, can you be quiet now?" It was probably the softest anyone had ever heard Anderson speak.

"Tanks have trouble maneuvering on small streets; this could be a safe place," I suggested while I peered down an alley with the rifle as we passed it.

"They have trouble but it ain't impossible, good eye, though." Anderson looked in each direction at a four-way crossroad. We all stiffened at the roaring of an engine that drew closer. "Up on that porch!" Anderson pointed to a house behind us with a brick porch. We jumped the fence and took cover. We cautiously peaked over and saw two military Humvees race through the intersection, each of them bearing rather crude paint schemes. Vehicles, too? Damn.

"How many of these dicks are there? And where did these guys find all this equipment? We could barely find our damn guns!" Sam muttered. The kids giggled at his choice of words.

"Quiet!" Anson ordered. We waited a little while longer. The sound of voices drifted to us from the direction the Humvees had come from.

"Man, where the hell are they?"

"Shut up and keep looking."

"Check the houses!" Another voice, much sterner, called out over them. We all stiffened. That had to have been an NCO or a lieutenant. How many soldiers gone rogue were here?

"No, no, don't cry!" Sam urged the kids, looked fearfully at the kids and then at the street. A party of maybe twenty people appeared and stopped into the middle of the intersection. But not all of them were soldiers; some of them didn't even have armor, just regular civilian guns! I wasn't the only one to notice.

"Are they all soldiers?" Peter wondered.

"It is unusual, but so are the circumstances." Anson replied. While the burly-looking soldier, who was apparently their leader, was shouting orders, Anderson was looking at the belt on his M249.

"They're still in a tight group," he said, looking at his large gun again. "Riley, take them and retreat through the house—I got these guys." He was going to open fire on them; I definitely didn't want to see the carnage, and the kids didn't need too, either.

"Copy, all of you get ready," Anson replied. I stood on the balls of my feet, ready to go at any moment. "Bust down the door when I say 'Go'." Anderson said quietly. We waited. The leader waved his hand and the group began to disperse. "GO!" In the same instant Anderson screamed. While he brought his gun up and firmly gripped the handle, I stood up and swung my foot at the front door. It broke down. I recovered immediately and ran in, my rifle instinctively raised. Sam and Peter ran behind me with the kids as machine gun fire and panicked shouting reached our ears. Disorganized return fire began flying through the doorway and the windows—we all ducked. The kids started crying again.

"Crawl through the kitchen and out the back!" Anson ordered. Keeping my head low, I did so. Bullets hit cupboards and shattered glasses above me while I moved. When I reached the kitchen I jumped up and roughly kicked the door down before proceeding into the back yard. The gunfire had stopped completely by now.

"Clear!" I called. I darted to the back and peeked over the fence into the next yard. I pushed myself over and propped my rifle against the fence. Peter passed the girl over the fence and then climbed over himself. Sam did the same after handing over the other kid. Anson followed, and Anderson climbed over last.

"There goes at least thirty of the bastards," Anderson said as he grabbed his machine gun. The roar of engines told us the Humvees were back.

"What now? Those things will tear us apart!" Sam whispered. Most Humvees had a machine gun attached to them for fire support. By the looks of it, they knew how to use it...

"Quiet! I'm thinking," Anderson said as we just stood there against the fence. A rumbling reached our ears— it was a heavy rumbling sound that could only be heard from a tank. Sam cursed under his breath. We could hear two voices conversing out on the street.

"Where are they?" A voice called.

"Don't know, but they ambushed some of our militia." We all looked at each other at the word 'militia.' "They might be hiding in one of the houses," the voice went on, "and they fired on our guys from there." After he said that, we could hear a rumbling. A thunderous bang behind us left our ears ringing as the house we'd just been in went up in flames, sending sharp fragments into the air. That could only come from a tank's main gun.

"Into the next yard, now!" Anderson ordered and we all vaulted over the left fence. We heard another shot from the tank, followed by another. They were systematically destroying the houses on that side of the street.

"What are they doing?" The boy asked.

"Don't worry about it," Sam told him. We continued going through yard after yard till we reached the other end of the block. I jumped up and peered over the fence and down each way of the street. It was clear, but there was still a lot of activity at the other end of the block. I climbed over.

"Hurry," I whispered. Sam passed the boy over and I set him down while Sam climbed up. Down the street a Humvee rounded the corner. The gunner pointed at us and yelled to the driver. The Humvee swung sharply and came at us. The gunner turned the mounted M240 on us.

"Shit!" Sam swore and we both brought our rifles up to fire. From across the street gunfire erupted. Along with our fire, the bullets tore the Humvee into shreds and knocked the gunner out onto the street. The Humvee then lost control and smashed into a parked truck with tremendous force. We looked across the street. From the mouth of an alley, several men clad in Marine camo waved at us.

"Friendly!" I waved back and Anderson and Anson instantly leaped over the fence. The squad leader waved for us to come over and we quickly darted across the open street.

"This way; keep up," were his only words before he turned and waved for his team to follow. We went after them and Anderson kept pace with the commander.

"You're the first friendly face we've seen in days," Anderson said. "We're the 18th Heliborne—our base is gone, we rallied here."

"2nd Marine Division, we've been trying to regroup as many units as possible." He put one hand up to stop us and grabbed the radio carried by another soldier. "This is recon team B, we've found an isolated group of friendlies. They have some civilians with them; there is heavy raider activity in the area. Send 'em in." The radio crackled in reply.

"Copy," a female voice replied, "bring them back to camp."

"Understood. Over and out." He hung up the radio. The first group of allies we've seen in days… we had the same amount of questions they had with us. We paused at the opposite end of the alley. A tank rumbled by, the standard M551 Sheridan light tank of the Rubinelle army, and it had a rogue paint scheme on it. That must've been what had chased us.

"So, what's going on? What the hell happened?" Sam asked.

"They'll explain back at camp," the Marine commander simply replied.

"So quit yapping and be on your toes," Anderson sternly added. He was right; we were still in combat. We exited the alley and proceeded down the street before turning onto another. We saw movement at the far end.

"Contact front! Raiders!" The Marine sergeant yelled. They all ducked to the right side of the street and our group went to the left. I took cover behind an old station wagon with Anson. Bullets began flying towards us from down the street. The Marines instantly returned fire. I guessed they'd already done this… Not wanting to be outdone, I leaned fire from cover and lined up my sights against a raider and squeezed the trigger. A three round burst caused some recoil against my shoulder. The raider reared back and disappeared behind a car; he did not get up. In the heat of the fight, I did not grasp that I'd just killed a man, nor at the time did I care that he had once been a fellow soldier. I simply readjusted my aim for another target. He ducked into cover as I fired. I leaned back into cover as a series of bullets hammered the station wagon and it rocked back. Behind the raiders, another Sheridan appeared; this one without a paint scheme. The tank commander turned the MG and fired on the raiders. Unprepared, they were all slaughtered. A stray bullet hit a fuel tank on a car and it erupted into flames.

"Jesus!" I heard Sam call from behind me.

"Go, go!" The Marines advanced and we followed. The tank rumbled to meet us. The Marines gave thumbs up to the tank commander as they passed. We gave a wave ourselves. Better now than later, I thought as I tossed Sam his rifle back. I grabbed a pistol, a knife, and a rifle from a raider for myself and handed Sgt. Anson back his sidearm.

"I'll be damned," Anderson said as the tank went past. He was staring at the unit insignia on the side. "12th Battalion?" 12th Battalion? They'd been a prestigious unit of the 1st Armored Division that fought in the last war. They were very famous, but I could've swore they were posted at least 100 miles away from here.

"Yep," the Marine sergeant called back. We kept going down the street, albeit at a slower pace. Several more tanks passed us, mostly Sheridans, but with soldiers riding on top; some of them waved at us. It looked like they had a full complement. The kids stared at it all in awe. The Marines led us to where four transport trucks were parked. Infantrymen, their patches identifying them from a variety of units, were climbing out and following the tanks. They climbed into the back and motioned for us to join them. We all settled down as the sergeant called for the driver to take us back to base.

"Just how many of you are here?" Sam asked. As the truck drove along the road more soldiers and vehicles were seen—anything from AA tanks to self-propelled artillery guns. All of them were moving into the city to meet the armed men we'd encountered.

"12th Battalion still has about 1,200 men," the Marine explained, "but we're from the 44th Regiment—part of our battalion got trashed and they rescued us. They picked up a few hundred boys from the infantry divisions up north, and some tanks and men from the 34th Armored Training Battalion found us after that. A couple of National Guardsmen started tagging along." It wasn't just one unit then; it was all the survivors they could find.

"Well, why are we shooting other soldiers? Who are those guys?" Sam went on, apparently forgetting that answers were promised when we got back.

"The raiders, they've been preying on survivors and isolated groups of soldiers." He eyed the kids. "It ain't just soldiers, there are mercenaries, convicted felons, or just some lousy civilians wanting to play soldier." The Marine sergeant shrugged. "You'll get the full story later."

"Why are we shooting each other? Shouldn't we be invading Lazuria?" Sam asked. For the first time all the Marines present frowned and avoided talking. Sam shut up as well, realizing that he had hit a nerve. We rode in silence for the rest of the trip.

"Here we are." The truck pulled to a stop in a large encampment of tents—it was a forward operating post. We all climbed out and were confidently led through the maze. First, we stopped at what appeared to be a medic station. A civilian woman took both of the children.

"Oh, bless you for saving them." She hugged Sam and Peter.

"All in a day's work, Ma'am," Peter said politely. Then, we were lead towards the center of encampment, where an operations center was set up. We passed a lot of civilians— kids, women, and men alike. I frowned at how battered and thin they seemed. Peter seemed worried as well.

"Excuse me," I asked, "how many civilians are there?"

"About ninety," one of the Marines replied. "Barely enough food to go around…" His words struck me with another twinge of guilt. We arrived at the command post. Outside the tent were two officers. One was a woman—pretty, petite, and with black hair. The other was an older and thickset man with blond hair. He wore the insignia of a captain on his shoulders.

"Captain Brenner, I present the remnants of the 18th Heliborne," the Marine sergeant introduced us. We all snapped to attention.

"At ease," he returned the salute. "I'm glad to see more soldiers are still alive and helping the less fortunate." He nodded at the Marine sergeant and he left. "I'm Captain Brenner, leader of the 12th Battalion of the Rubinelle Army." The name rang a bell, but I couldn't immediately place it. "This is my second in command, Lieutenant Lin." He motioned to the woman, who nodded. A Captain and Lieutenant leading a Battalion? Something must've happened to the regular CO. "We've been patrolling the region, looking for survivors. We saw your base on the map and came this way." So they'd come looking for us…

"We appreciate it, sir, but the 18th Heliborne is no more. No helicopters, no commanders, we're all that's left," Anderson motioned to us. The captain frowned.

"What a shame, we could've really used the air support…" He straightened up. "Regardless, it's great to have you here." They shook hands.

"With all due respect, Captain, we would like to know what has happened," Anson spoke up. "I'm sure you understand that it has been confusing for us in the past week." The captain sighed and shook his head.

"Lin, would you care to explain?"

"Yes sir." I realized her voice was the same one who replied to the Marine sergeant back in town. "A week ago, meteors struck the earth—" We couldn't help but make surprised noises. She didn't seem to mind as she continued. "The whole world was hit, and is likely destroyed." Her words sunk in. Meteors? The whole world destroyed? Home… Our parents… all those people… It was a hell of a thing to take in so suddenly. "Large clouds of dirt and ash have blocked out the sun. It could be years before we see the sun again."

"Years?" Sam blurted out.

"I estimate 90% of the population has been wiped out." She didn't pay any attention to his outburst whatsoever. She was clearly smart and knowledgeable about the matter, but delivered it with surprising coldness.

"We've been trying to help as many people as possible and reestablish some order," the Captain took back over.

"But, as you clearly saw, some see this disaster as an opportunity to prey on the less fortunate," Lin went on. "We've been engaging them for several days."

"We were hoping the 18th could've helped us, though I guess its impossible now." Brenner shook his head. "We could still use some more hands. There are still a lot of people we can help." It was all so sudden, confusing, and unbelievable, but upon hearing that last sentence, my mind was made up. I knew Peter's was. Sergeant Anderson must've figured all our minds were in the same place, because he spoke for all of us.

"It's our duty; we'll stay," Anderson nodded. The captain smiled.

"Good to hear that. We can start the assimilation process tomorrow then. Supplies are a bit critical, so you might have to go without some amenities," he warned. I had no objections to that, as long as I could still help—Sam probably did, but I knew he'd get over it. As I was trying to adjust to the sudden and unexpected news, I wondered: What would happen now? I was sure on one thing, though: the world would never be the same again…

XX Author's Note XX

OC policy as of September 2014: Due to the progress of this leg of the trilogy, I have decided to stop accepting OCs for this particular story. I will, however, still accept OCs for the other two legs of the trilogy via PM if anyone so wishes to send one.


	5. Chapter 4

X Tim X

I could now say, with all honesty, that I was starting to really freak the fuck out. It'd been a couple of hours' journey north towards the Marine base, and some of the others had gone forward to scout it out. They'd radioed back to us telling that it was pointless: the place was trashed. And then they suggested we just land at the civilian airport in the city. Still curious, Sarah and I still flew directly over the base when we got there.

It'd been completely wrecked. Nothing was left standing, and no one could possibly live there. The city had been the same way: burnt and collapsed and empty. And it was a big fucking city! The airport they mentioned? Only partially collapsed. No one from the city had come to see us when we arrived though 'cause there was no one out there. There should've been easily a million people around here... and there wasn't. Whatever the fuck had happened, it was not small, it was not contained, and there would be no easy fucking fix.

_Fucking hell, what did the world do to deserve THIS?_It must've done something, because Mother Nature—there was no way in hell people could do this, there just wasn't any way they could—had turned the world into a pretty good imitation of Hell. And here the fifteen of us were, alone and holed up in a structurally unsound airport terminal. We all headed directly to the VIP lounge after landing to get comfortable. Bad idea.

"Who the hell said you get the couch?"

"I did."

"Who died and made you king?"

"Will you both just shut up," Sarah said in annoyance at the two bickering pilots. With only three chairs and two couches (one already occupied with the snoring Captain Jackass), it was becoming a pain in the ass to make sleeping arrangements. Those two hadn't stopped arguing and a few other guys in here looked like they were willing to as well. We were both prepared to drag a mat and sleep in the hallways. When the arguing didn't subside, we both stepped outside, into the main area. Most of the group was standing by the window, talking and staring out onto the runway. All our aircraft were parked there, underneath the red sky.

It still creeped me out to see it like that. A change this fucking sudden took a while to set in. Or maybe I was still feeling the effects of being knocked in the head. The others were talking about just random stuff: what happened to the Marines, the people in town, or everything in general. Sarah must not have found the conversation interesting, because she turned and started walking away. I went after her.

"Are you scared?" She randomly asked me when we were out of earshot of the others.

"Scared?" I repeated. "I'm not really scared... just a little dazed," I answered, believing myself.

"Hmm." I wasn't sure if Sarah believed me; she had this way of knowing what people were thinking even if they didn't. "You got a spare cigarette?" She suddenly asked.

"Huh? Uh... yeah." I stopped and reached in my pocket for a pack. I was a regular smoker. For some reason, I forgot that I had them up until we were doing a final check before leaving. If that wasn't proof that I was still in a daze, what was? "Here," I held it out to her, but she shook her head.

"I changed my mind."

"Oh." I put the pack back. "I was about to say that you stopped a few years ago." She never criticized me for continuing though. "Must be nerves." I put two and two together. "Are you scared?" I asked.

"No," she shook her head, "but I'm wondering if I should be." She admitted that as much. "Everyone else seems to be uneasy, but I'm still just a little startled." She seemed confused.

"Ah, we're just stronger," I said confidently. _And smarter, more mature, and more competent—at least next to those guys._

"I suppose our childhood did make us that," Sarah agreed. Her words made me scratch the back of my head. Did she have to bring that up? She'd mentioned it more often in the days since things went to hell than she had two years before. I didn't like remembering that part of our lives; it sucked.

"I guess..." I said. She was right that it had toughened us up... but I still didn't like to think about it. It was ten years behind us—completely pointless to remember now. Besides, this was a whole different league. Then, to make me even more uncomfortable, Sarah mentioned it again.

"There's that same feeling of trying to survive," she mused.

"Not really." I wanted to steer the conversation somewhere else. "Back then it was just trying not to get sucked into something stupid since it was a bad city and everyone else was complete fuck ups. Here is a lot more of... basic survival." I hoped she'd change the subject. She thought about what I'd said.

"I guess. But it still reminds me of—" She stopped, winced, and exhaled suddenly.

"Sarah?" I took a step towards her.

"I'm fine!" She said quickly, taking a step back and hunching over slightly. I immediately recognized the motion.

"Oh." I stopped in my tracks. My face started to heat up. "Is it... uh... 'that'?"

"Yeah, we've just been in the lobby since we got here," she admitted, her face turning slightly red too. "You go back to the others... I'll take care of it and catch up," she assured me.

"R—right. Right." I straightened up and tried to compose myself. "I'll wait for you." I turned and started walking away. _Damn, I knew that might've happened. _It was one of those issues Sarah still had but hadn't really cropped up in a long time, a birth defect or something that affected her if she was doing something for a while without breaks. The flight had been a lot longer than the ones we were usually on... It was a taboo subject though, and she had insisted on handling it herself, so I didn't dwell on it for long. I just tried to think of anything else that could distract me while I walked slowly back towards where the others were.

Sarah caught up with me and kept an even pace. I didn't comment on the fact and tried to pretend nothing had happened. Then she spoke again: "That's the one part I hated most about our childhood." I winced. "I really hope it doesn't become a hassle."

"Yeah," I said uneasily as we approached the group; I'd never been more grateful to see other people in my life. We slipped into nice, relaxing silence. It didn't last long, though.

"Hi guys," Kim greeted us. She was standing beside Eddie.

"Man, the sky is fucked up everywhere." One of the pilots turned to look at us. I think his name was Jeremy; I'd picked up a few names from listening over the radio or from conversation. I figured I might as well; I'll be stuck in here for a while.

"Man, there's no way this was a nuke." Another one—I hadn't caught his name—went on. Apparently, they decided to restart their argument over what happened when we showed up. Just our luck.

"They could've fired more than one." Yet another one of them joined in—I was pretty sure his name was Michael. "They got those ballistic missiles. They can fire nukes all over the country." There were so many things wrong with that argument, and I was still a little uneasy, so I decided to open my mouth.

"Hey genius? We wouldn't be alive if it had been nuclear." I told him. _Idiot. _I was thinking back to what Stone had said, and I agreed with the old man. "Jesus, you think they'd have an IQ exam before you can fly."

"Geez man, you're so goddamn negative. Why don't you just go on being silent," he muttered.

"And why don't you quit being a dumbass?" I retorted. I never had much patience with these people, and I really did want to clear my head from what happened earlier.

"Guys, we can't fight, we need to stick together." Kim stepped in between us. It was just an argument, not a duel. It wasn't surprising that she was the one who intervened, though. She always seemed to think that she could naturally get involved with other people's business.

"Shut up, what do you know?" The pilot snapped. She stepped back, surprised. For some reason, that kind of pissed me off.

"What's going on here?" Stone appeared from the VIP lounge. We all dispersed. Things hadn't been going to escalate, but if these guys were paranoid enough, they probably wouldn't care. Everyone's head was being screwed with.

"Aren't we all part of the same team?" Eddy scratched the back of his head nervously. Two of the other pilots snorted. I rolled my eyes. We didn't need to hear the same message twice.

"Guys, we shouldn't be fighting." Kim was the only one to stick up for him. Those two had been sticking together, though I only knew that because Sarah had told me. Not that they could accomplish much.

"Infighting will get us nowhere," Stone agreed, preaching the values about teamwork. I didn't even like any of the pilots, although I guess I considered Kim a sister, even if I only knew her through Sarah. Hell, I still had trouble with the other helicopter pilots. I really couldn't say I knew any of them, especially now. At the same time, though, I wasn't just going to go shoot one of them.

_Eh, at least he's doing something instead of sleeping._

"Man, I just want to get out of here and find out what the hell happened," the pilot grumbled.

"But what if there IS no 'out of here'?" Another pilot pointed out. "What if the whole country is like this?" I didn't even bother to try and remember what their names were; I just followed whatever shit they were saying.

"No way, man. This is a big country." Another pilot shook his head in denial.

"Nothing exists that is powerful to destroy an entire country like this." Those same three pilots began arguing. I sighed and rubbed my head. How much longer would I be stuck with these people? Sarah shook her head as well. It was amazing how fast military discipline failed when you didn't have a base, a plan, or a leader. Sarah and I had learned to be a lot more independent then any of these people.

"Guys!" Kim screeched loudly enough to make us all flinch. It was enough to break up the argument. She was pointing out the window, and everyone followed where she was pointing. We all jumped and scrambled away, ducking behind whatever scarce furniture there was. I ducked behind an advertisement stand, and Sarah had ducked down behind me.

"Go get the others, now," Stone said urgently to one of the junior pilots, who then darted back into the VIP room. There were no problems now; everyone was alert and serious for once.

"Did it see us?"

"Don't think so…"

"I don't believe it," Sarah whispered beside me. Outside, circling around above our parked aircraft was a Sturmovik propeller-driven plane. They were like Sky Raiders: they were a real old plane that got pushed into service for the hell of it. They had a long legacy for ground attack missions, and they'd shot down a hell of a lot of helicopters in the last war. But there was just one big problem with that: the Sturmovik was a Lazurian plane.

"So it WAS those bastards," I growled I wasn't exactly sure of that, but no one went anywhere by sheer coincidence. And our enemy showing up right after something happened? That was too damn suspicious. From the VIP lounge the other pilots snuck out and into cover to look. Well... most of them anyway.

"Well I'll be, look at that!" Waylon said loudly as he marched right up to the window to look, much to some of the other pilots' horror. "Looks like those chumps are moving in."

"Fucking idiot," I muttered.

"It's a scout," Stone said it as a matter-in-fact, "and a larger force is likely to follow." The man was a veteran. He knew what he was talking about.

"It saw our jets; they know we're here!" A pilot said weakly. That would've explained why the bastard was circling. We hadn't bothered storing them anywhere because we hadn't figured anyone was around.

"Additional forces will take a few minutes to get here, possibly from their Air Force and Army. We may be able to evade before then," Stone suggested.

"Man, screw that!" Waylon grinned. "We can take that old jalopy out the sky right now! And whoever comes behind them, too!"

"They most likely have land forces in tow, and odds are they have ZSUs with them," one of the pilots from Eagle Squadron said. ZSUs were Lazurian self-propelled anti-air tanks. You didn't want to fuck with them, especially if you were a helicopter. "With those things firing at us we wouldn't be able to do any fighting."

"Oh chill, that's what the helicopter is for, isn't it?" Waylon, as well as everyone else, looked at us.

"No fucking way." I shook my head. A helicopter could get them... but you'd need balls, luck, and a couple of idiots on the other side. "I ain't dodging jets and those damn things all by myself." I wasn't a coward, but I agreed with the old man; we should get the fuck out of here. _This ain't personal, so I don't care._

"There'd be too many targets from the ground force behind them." Sarah shook her head and backed me up. "There wouldn't be just one, and we wouldn't have the element of surprise." Waylon refused to step down, though.

"So what if we're dancing in the fireworks? It's funner!" He turned and strode towards the employee passage to get down to the runway. We just stared after him, surprised.

_He's insane!_I thought he would be covering his ass. No, now it seemed like he wanted to fight. How the hell had that happened?

"Why don't we let him hold them off and get the hell outta dodge?" A pilot suggested. I knew he was from Waylon's own squadron. That just went to show how screwed up our 'leader' was in the head.

"Isn't that treason?" Eddy asked. No one acknowledged him, though Kim squirmed uncomfortably beside him. As far as I was concerned, it wasn't treason if suicide was the alternative.

"Well?" The pilots all turned to Stone, who shook his head. At least we still had him. Otherwise, we'd really be fucked.

"If the airport becomes surrounded, then escape on foot is next to impossible. Hiding here isn't the best option either… We can get to our jets and punch through. Any air support they have probably wouldn't stray far from the rest of the force." He turned to us. "If we give some cover, can you both get out of the combat zone?" We had been both itching to do some actual fighting, but we both had common sense: it was a dumb move to engage an enemy we knew nothing about and without further support.

"Hell, I can fly that thing to hell in back," I nodded. Stone turned to Eddy. "We can provide cover while you get away as well."

"We should just leave him," I heard one of the Vulture pilots mutter. Sky Raiders were pretty easy targets; a hell of a lot of them had been shot down by missiles in the last war.

"Okay." If Stone had heard the pilot, he didn't show it. "Let's go, we should be able to sneak to our planes." We all fell behind Stone and practically ran down to where we could get to our planes. I really didn't care that this was about to be my first instance of combat as a pilot. The only thing I cared about was that the two of us survived. The means didn't really matter. While we ran, Stone informed us about our enemy.

"The Marine base was likely their original target. Given how far we are from the coast, the enemy ground forces would either be their Air Rifle troops or a Motor-Rifle unit." The smart way in which he talked reminded me something; he was about to face these guys again for the first time in over a decade. That must've been some feeling he had. "The scout plane might not be armed, unless they want to capture our aircraft intact for some purpose. In any case, it shouldn't notice us start up our fighters. The ground's flat enough, we can take straight off without taxiing to the runway. If we do it fast, the scout plane won't be able to give chase." Everyone watched and listened intently. Hell, I was taking notes.

"You three," Stone turned to us, "head south. The further south we are, the harder it'll be for them to reach us. Find something suitable for us to land and signal us from there. We'll catch up. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" That was probably the first time in a decade I'd put my effort into saying it. It was an important job, but it sounded a lot easier then it looked, as we found out a minute later.

"We'll never make it," one of the Eagle pilots growled. Our group, Waylon included, was all crouched inside a cargo door. The jets were about fifty meters out, our helicopter about seventy meters away. None of us would last a dash; that Sturmovik could've strafed any one of us and half the aircraft in one go.

"We can move from cover to cover," Stone whispered. He pointed to two of his pilots. "Follow me when I give the signal." They both nodded, biting their bottom lips. When the scout plane turned away Stone gave the word and the three of them dashed quickly to cover behind the nearest jet. They waited and the plane circled back again, showing no sign that it had seen them. When it turned again they kept on going. One stopped beside his jet they passed, and Stone and the other darted behind another. Stone made a final dash to his own jet. When the plane turned again, they all quickly climbed into their aircraft and another group of pilots moved to cover. Waylon moved out with the second group. When they reached their planes Kim gripped Eddy's hand tightly as they both got ready to move. Had it not been a tense situation, I would've laughed at his face. The two of them and another pilot from Eagle Squadron made the run, leaving Sarah and me with another pilot from Vulture Squadron.

"This is tense, bro." He was twitchy.

"Shh!" We both said. When Kim waved at us we glanced up to see if the plane had its back turned. Rather suddenly, two MiGs flew over at high speed. Fuck, this was bad. Lazurian MiGs were cheap and only mildly effective, but they always appeared in large numbers. Three more flew over, and all five headed further south, away from the airport. The scout plane turned and header north, its job apparently done. I wasn't sure about that Sturmovik, but I knew those fighters were definitely coming back.

We all took off and ran to our craft. I helped Sarah up into the co-pilot seat and then hauled myself up. I eased into the pilot seat and threw on my helmet and plugged in the headphones to the radio, already alive with chatter. Stone was trying to keep everyone in order. Waylon was already powering up to takeoff. I ignored them and pushed the ignition button. The helicopter whined and the blades above began to spin.

"I'll take it low, keep an eye for anything," I said. The helicopter's radar powered up, and I could see the enemy fighters near the edge of the radar. _Notice them, not me._

"Copy," Sarah put a thumb up and activated the weapons system. The fighters turned slightly and their pilots gave the engines everything they had, sending them roaring across the flat ground and up in the air in seconds. Three were already in the air by the time the helicopter blades reached enough power to lift off. I lifted the stick and the helicopter lifted off the ground a few feet. Like I said, I was going to stay low, trying to stay around forty feet.

Gunfire erupted from outside the cockpit. There was a series of clings as bullets struck the side of the helicopter, but were deflected by the armor. It still made us jump, though. We looked out the window to see several Lazurian soldiers standing in the cargo bay we'd come from, taking shots at the retreating planes and us with assault rifles. "Line me up," Sarah called. I rotated the helicopter slightly so that the gun was facing them. The soldiers quickly scattered as high velocity rounds impacted the ground around them. Several blew apart in a spray of blood and guts.

"A lot better than training!" I grinned as they ran away. It was the real thing now, and I wasn't going to hold back. The remaining ones retreated into the building. That'd show them.

"Evacuate, don't stick around." Stone's jet was at the back of the line. Old man wanted everyone to be safe; I had to give him credit for that.

"All right, but don't stay for too long," Sarah replied. I wondered how long they would fight, or if any would come back. Sure I didn't like half of them, but they were still on the same side. Plus they had the food.

The MiGs had finally come back. By then, several of our F-15s were in the air, and the planes on each side scattered as a dogfight began. We didn't stick around and watch, though. The two Sidewinder AA missiles our helicopter carried as standard defense against enemy helicopters wouldn't help much. I looked to see Eddy's Sky Raider flying low away from the airport and followed him out.

_I'll get you in another day, you bastards. _I had a reason to be suspicious of Lazuria now.

X James X

A patrol had been sent to pick up the supplies we had left at the gas station; fortunately, the Raiders hadn't taken any of it. After that, we'd been assigned a place to stay in the camp; they'd set up a section specifically for remnants from other units. I'd been curious, but hadn't found the energy to see what other units or civilians had joined the 12th Battalion.

_Damn good soldiers._ They had to be, not only because they still had their members, but they'd organized rescue efforts for survivors and military casualties in the region. I couldn't have asked for a better place to join to start setting things right. That wouldn't be the case just yet though; we had to be officially assimilated, since having people from different units would affect coordination in the field. At least we were being allowed to rest before that next step. Afterward, the five of us had split between two tents we'd been given for our own.

Despite lying on my mat for over an hour, I couldn't sleep. I was too deep in thought. The whole world was destroyed, governments were wiped out, and there were barely any people left alive. I'd known such destruction was present, but to hear the scale it was on... It was nearly overwhelming. Survivor's guilt was heavy on my conscious at the moment, both for civilians and our brigade.

For the first time since it happened, I thought of home back down south. We had family down there: our parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. Where were they right now? They'd accepted the thought that they might lose us... But I hadn't thought of it the other way around. Would they be safe if they did survive? I hated the idea of raiders like the ones here rampaging through our home town.

I didn't want to think about home much; it would cloud my judgment here and there was absolutely nothing I could do from where I was. But no matter how much I tried it nagged at the back of my mind. Sam made some weird whimpering noises and twitched. He and Peter had trouble sleeping, too. Sam had fallen asleep maybe ten minutes ago. I wondered what was on his mind; I'd never asked him about his personal life.

Despite being 'lights out' (if there was any light left), the camp was still slightly busy; I could see figures moving outside the tent flaps. In just a few hours everyone would pack out and we would be moving on. I glanced at the rifle lying by my side, the safety switched on but the rifle still close. The raiders were very active all over the area; fighting was sure to occur, so we always had to be ready. The idea of killing our own people still didn't sit well with me, but I knew I had to do it. The remaining civilians had to be protected; it was my duty. When morning came, I would do so without question.

It calmed me down enough that I finally went to sleep.

X Tim X

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. We had been pretty tired when we were at the airport; the subsequent escape did nothing to help—and that had been a few hours ago. Just like Stone had told us, we'd gone south. We noticed a particularly long stretch of a four-lane freeway, deserted like everywhere else, and had decided to land there. It was by an off-ramp that led to gas stations and restaurants below. Even if we couldn't stay here, it'd be somewhere to catch our breath and think.

Sarah was still in the helicopter, using the radio to send out a signal for the others to find us. I was sitting outside, watching the sky and their planes to show up. Eddie was on the opposite side, pacing back and forth beside his Sky Raider. I ignored it at first, but it was so damn silent now that I could hear him even over the wind blowing. I was tired, so I wasn't exactly welcoming.

"Quit pacing, your girlfriend's fine," I growled once it became too annoying. He flinched like I was about to shoot him, but stopped pacing.

"She's not—uh, sorry sir," he stammered. He eventually decided to shut up and sit down in front of his plane. I rubbed the back of my head and continued scanning the sky. Kim was a smart girl, and Stone had trained all the members of his squadron with tricks he learned in the last war. I was pretty sure they were fine. If not..., well, I remembered a quote I'd heard in school that had actually been good enough to remember. _Que sera, sera. What happens happens. You move on. __Although that would leave us alone with Eddie…_

"They've been gone for a while now," Sarah called from the helicopter, which we'd parked on the grass to the side. I got up and walked over. I found it annoying, but for whatever reason, she did care about Kim.

"Stone's an ace, Waylon may be a jackass but he's a good pilot and Kim's pretty smart too," I shrugged. "It isn't a rookie group out there, and it was only five enemy planes against twelve. They'll be fine," I told her. She sat in her seat with a weird look on her face. Not exactly sure what to say, I decided to check the helicopter over.

Walking around the whole thing, I noticed marks from where bullets had hit it. They were pretty big marks too; those Lazurian AKs used some pretty big rounds. None had pierced the armor and damaged anything, though. None of the weapons had been damaged either. The only thing she needed on the outside was some new paint, and even then I'd rather keep those scars as proof that we'd fought them and escaped to fight for another day.

After things had gone quiet, I began thinking about what happened earlier. We had killed those guys—literally leaving a few of them scattered in pieces over the pavement. Sarah had pulled the trigger, but we shared the responsibility. I'd beaten the crap out of some people, but I never killed anyone. I wasn't that disturbed about it, though. Sarah wasn't even bothered by it—not even the slightest bit.

_It was them or us.__This is war. Nothing personal._ They messed with us, we messed them up. It was the natural order, something we were better off not going against.

I decided to check the helicopter's fuel gauge, and I swore aloud. With a full tank, these things could travel about 250 miles without stopping. After heading to the airport and then running from it, we'd wasted about half of that. Either we had to find more gas, or we were fucked three ways from Sunday. I was snapped out of worrying about that particular problem when Sarah started yelling.

"I see something!" She called. I turned and looked. Several specs had appeared on the horizon, no doubt planes. That was them all right.

"Toss me a flare," I called. Sarah had transmitted where we were, but I wasn't sure they'd see us. I popped the flare and began waving it. The jets slowed down and descended to get a visual confirmation. They all made a slow pass over before speeding off to turn around and land. I watched them go; it'd be a minute before they came back.

"Well, they made it." Sarah sounded relieved. It was good news, I guess. I looked over to the other side of the highway. Eddy was frowning and looking after the planes.

"Something up?" I inquired. He jumped again. Sheesh. _Kid, you're too jumpy._

"It's nothing sir, I—I just thought I only saw eleven jets." He turned and shuffled away. I frowned. Eleven? How many people had we had again?

"There's supposed to be twelve," Sarah reminded me, climbing out of the helicopter to look. I stared myself, digesting the information. Had someone died? Crashed? Got lost?

"Well, fuck," I muttered and walked to a better spot so I could see them. I counted and came up with eleven. "Who the hell was shot down?" I wondered aloud. We stood back as the planes touched down, one after another, and pulled to the shoulder. I made a count of the paint schemes on the side as each one landed a minute after the other. There was one missing plane from Vulture Squadron. Kim was in Vulture Squadron. I frowned, though I could see her slim figure emerging from one of the planes. The rest of the Vulture pilots walked in a defeated stance. One threw his helmet to the ground and kicked it across the highway.

"Motherfuckers!" He waved his fists in the air. With the jet engines having powered down, his voice carried a long ways.

"Damn, who'd you lose?" Sarah asked as they walked over to meet us. It was more of manners, since neither of us had learned most of the pilots' real names. Still, one less guy meant things were more dangerous, and that was never a good thing.

"Yeah, Butch went down, damn AA tanks broke onto the runway and fire blew a wing off, he went down on the runway," the seething pilot's companion explained. "They were best friends." He pointed to the raging pilot. The guy was swearing and stomping around like some pissed off drunk. For a change, I figured he had the right to.

"We saw a 'chute, they may have got him," Kim sighed. "We can't go back and get him, though." She looked really sad about it too, and walked over to stand by Sarah.

"Well, that sucks," I commented. Captured or dead, he wasn't of any use to us anymore. But not being dead was definitely something good.

"This isn't how it was supposed to go!" The fuming pilot yelled, still stomping around in the middle of the highway while the rest of us were on the side of the road. "No one was supposed to get caught!" He fumed again. "We should've gotten out of there before the ground forces showed up."

"Mitch, calm down," Kim tried to reason with him. "He's still alive, isn't he?"

"Hell, brotha man, the girl has a point—he ain't dead!" Compared to the tired stances of everyone else present, Waylon seemed as carefree as ever. He hadn't come over with everyone else, for some reason. "Now, that was fun wasn't it? They won't bother us again! I need to start tallying my marks for my ace card!"

"Fun? FUN? There was nothing FUN about it!" Mitch screamed. He'd stopped pacing to stare at Waylon. The guy looked royally pissed off, all red in the face and nostrils flaring.

"Oh, calm down man, we're still alive, so let's celebrate!" Waylon tossed his jacket in the air and caught it before turning around. "Where's a place to crash?" Right then and there, I could've sworn that Mitch guy was going to tackle and beat the living shit out of Waylon. _Well, who wouldn't? _Much to my surprise, he allowed his shoulders to sag in defeat and went to retrieve his helmet instead.

_Fucking coward._ No one had the balls to do anything. If Waylon tried to mess with the two of us, I'd make sure he regretted it. _Bastard better keep his distance. _Sarah rubbed my shoulders, probably reading my thoughts. Eddie pointed out the buildings below to everyone, and we agreed to check them out.

"C'mon, let's just find some place to sleep. I'm tired," Sarah fretted. I sighed and followed her. _Another day, maybe._ I'd come to a conclusion while sitting on that deserted freeway, though: I wasn't sticking with these people for long. The fact that those Lazurians were here meant that there was a war going on, a fact that immediately cancelled out the importance of anything else. There was a war, which meant there were people out there who wanted to kill us.

We didn't have a good leader, a base, supplies, or support of any kind. Trying to take part in a war like this was a death warrant, and I wasn't going to sign mine. If things didn't start looking up soon, I'd be looking at all of my options, consequences be damned. I knew Sarah was genuinely worried for the others, but she knew how things were just as much as I did. Depending on what happened in the next few days, we might not be pilots anymore.

_But we'll still be alive, and that's all that goddamn matters._


	6. Free Haven

XX A/N XX

While this trilogy will novelize the events of the game, I will be including quite a few additions or modifications for the sake of adding more to the story, or to help make the transition from game play to story form much smoother. For instance, the battle I'm about to describe occurs in the level 'Free Haven', but takes place 'off the map', since I think the raiders (despite their brutality) wouldn't attack from just one direction.

X James X

Soldiers are meant to be adaptive; they strip us down of any weakness, and teach us how to take any situation head on. It was that training that probably kept me from losing it all together.

When they had said we'd be helping others, I assumed we'd immediately be helping lost survivors—but that wasn't the case. We'd searched a lot of places, but they were all like the town we left behind—only dead bodies. I found out quickly that they found very few survivors. This, of course, weighed down on my conscious, but according to the other 'vets' (if only by a few days), you got used to the helpless feeling and learned to focus all your energy on the living, a mere ninety people living in a separate camp. Well, at least we hadn't seen any more raiders yet.

"Ow! Damnit," Sam swore. I looked over, keeping a firm grip on the body of the Abram. It bounced and rumbled along the road, loud, uncomfortable, and slightly frightening. The movement had caused Sam to bang his head against the tank's 105mm cannon. Riding on top wasn't the most effective way of getting around, but it was the only means of travel we had. Our jobs at the new unit we found ourselves in required it.

This unit, the 12th Battalion, was an armored battalion. It had artillery and heavy tanks to engage and weaken major threats, but it also had infantry in APCs, which in turn were supported by light tanks, to protect the armored companies or to mop up enemy remnants. But, as the Marine had told us earlier, they'd picked up a lot of stragglers from other units and had to fold them into three new groups for better coordination in the field.

The first was the Marines the Battalion had rescued. They were a little over three hundred of them in total, and they'd managed to scrape together two tanks, four APCs, some Humvees, and a pair of self-propelled guns, too. In spite of their size, they insisted on being referred to as the 2nd Battalion, 44th Marine Infantry Regiment. They'd been acting as some sort of a heavy scout force for the Battalion from what I could see.

The second group was composed of about three hundred infantrymen. Most of it was personnel from the 10th Infantry Division, and they brought with them stocks of their weapons (which were quite plenty), a couple of trucks and Humvees, and even a pair of anti-tank guns to supplement the ones used by the 12th Battalion's infantry companies. These survivors had been organized into a provisional company that was meant to serve as a rear-guard or a flanking unit. I wished that I could talk to some of them, though; the 10th Division had been part of the 2nd Rubinelle Army Corps, even if it was stationed further south. Some of them might've been able to tell us how it was up north.

_Near the coast is where most of the country lives. If that's gone, how can we rebuild?_I knew I was in no position to worry about such a thing, yet I couldn't help but wonder.

The last group the 12th Battalion had thrown together was a provisional tank company. The last biggest group the 12th Battalion had rescued was composed of instructors and students from a small tank training base in the region. They'd brought six Abrams and eight Sheridan light tanks with them, operated by people just out of basic training and barely aware of how to work the machines. They were learning the ropes now, and until they reached a certain level of proficiency, they were kept in reserve.

This company was also where we were assigned, since modern doctrine usually forbade tanks to proceed without sufficient infantry escort. The 12th Battalion had assigned about two platoons' worth of infantry—small groups like us or some National Guardsmen—to the company with the explicit order of protecting the tanks. It was a very far drop from our specialized training, but it was an assignment and I took it seriously. Travelling with the company was uncomfortable, though, since there were no spare vehicles to transport us. As a result, we had to ride on the tanks. Sam rubbed his head again.

"Man, we're trained for helicopters, not tanks," Sam complained.

"A good soldier is good in all doctrines," Anson told him. Sam grumbled something in response.

"At least you can see if someone's about to shoot you," I suggested, looking around at the great view we had from here. The tank hit another bump, and we all tightened our grip. No one had fallen off and gotten crushed yet, which was a blessing. There were about nine of us crammed onto this one tank, so there was no shortage of people to grab onto.

"So, fresh meat, where do you boys come from?" A sergeant in front of us asked. His patch identified him as a member of the 'City Rifles' or the Urban Combat Division (UCD), an experiment by the military for engagements within cities, where armored vehicles were more of a liability than an asset. They had detachments scattered all over the country to help other units, and he was one of the twelve men who had been picked up by the 12th Battalion. Their training should be useful once we found ourselves having to dig an enemy out of an urban area.

"Watch your tongue, boy, I ain't no fresh meat," Anderson warned. The sergeant laughed. The two men were equal in rank, but it was easy to see how everyone riding here noticed both sergeants of the 18th Heliborne.

"Of course, of course, you're a rarity; most of the other troops are new. So, where you from?

"We're from the 18th Heliborne, search and rescue, rapid deployment, all that shit," Anderson explained.

"Search and rescue?" The sergeant said casually while he observed his Remington shotgun. "You'll fit in here. I think we picked up a couple of helicopter pilots, civilians of course. If we find some helicopters who knows." He turned back to the front. I frowned. Our role was very advanced; the pilots themselves would have to be able to pull off great maneuvers. Then again, the need to dodge fighters and AA likely wasn't needed anymore...

"They wouldn't be very good," Anderson grumbled in reply. He was right about that. Even if we did found a helicopter, the 18th Heliborne was all but destroyed now. We rode on in silence for a while. It was definitely one of the more negative parts of traveling with the Battalion. The only point of interest came when we passed a crashed B-52 heavy bomber, a real workhorse of the Rubinelle Air Force. I whistled admirably; it was still in one piece despite the crash landing.

"Please tell me those raiders don't have planes." Sam sounded just a bit weak when he said that. Being on the receiving end of a bomber was horrifying to even think about.

"Nah," one of the other UCD soldiers shrugged it off. "There are crashed planes all over the country now. The raiders are too busy killing, raping, and plundering to get anything heavier than an Abrams. So there isn't a whole lot to worry about from the air." Another moment of silence followed.

"Where are we going?" Peter was the first of us to ask. Some of the other soldiers shrugged. They didn't know either, except that we had turned and were heading east. Well, we grunts were expected to follow orders without questioning the finer details, though it still would've been nice to know.

For the next two hours it seemed, we observed the ruined landscape, listened to war stories from Anderson (very good stories, I might add), and talked about what would happen to the world now. The only thing we had agreed on was that the difficult task of restoring it would be up to us; we were the only ones fit to stop the anarchy. There was no time frame and no definite plan, but it was a goal.

The convoy had slowed down some, though we didn't know why. As the Abram crawled up the road behind countless over vehicles, we could see a bridge over a stream in the distance. "These things weigh what—twenty tons?" Sam wondered.

"Multiply that by three and you'll be about right," the tank commander said from where he was leaning out the hatch. About right? Hell, the bridge barely looked big enough to support a semi. As we got closer we noticed something else: some forces were splitting off from the Battalion and following the stream in both directions. Lieutenant Lin was standing on the other side of the bridge, with several personnel surrounding her and a Sheridan light tank parked beside her. As the Abram made the slow crawl over the bridge, the lieutenant waved the tank down. We all exchanged looks.

"Down, all of you," she commanded. We all jumped down from the hull and the driver popped his head out from the other hatch. "There's a civilian town directly east of here, and we're heading there to check on their well being," she began, "but raider activity in the area we came from is high, so we're posting the Marine company and the provisional tank company as a rear guard. This is the easiest defensive position for miles, so we'll form it here. There are four points along this stream where enemy vehicles can cross, so we're separating into four groups." She motioned to everyone who was standing around us.

"This will be detachment D. A & C will be north of here, B south." Then, out of the thirty or so men present, she turned to Sergeant Anderson. "You're a veteran, correct?" When he confirmed that he was, she went on. "You'll lead this detachment," she said, surprising those gathered. I looked around and realized that there were no officers present. Some of the men present were sergeants a grade higher than Anderson, but he did have experience, and that was what they wanted.

"Yes ma'am." Anderson took it in stride, and everyone else accepted it for our given task. Okay, it was up to us. If we faltered, civilians would be in danger. I'd much rather see the town and how people were faring, but this was important, too. I couldn't help but frown a little when the lieutenant entered one of the last Humvees in the convoy and left us. I understood the need to spread out and form a full perimeter, but we were apparently spread too thin.

There were us and the five armored infantrymen from the UCD. Then, there were mechanized infantrymen who wore the patches of the 1st Cavalry Division, and most of them had an AT-4 anti-tank weapon on their backs. Then, there were thirteen Marines, all ordinary infantrymen like ourselves except for two snipers and a radioman, the two tanks from the provisional company, and two men from the 12th Battalion's small artillery unit—spotters. It was a makeshift but a capable group.

"Well, it won't be that hard to make a stand here," Anderson observed. The ditch wasn't that entirely deep, only about fifteen feet, but it was steep enough to stop most military vehicles. "Push those rocks out of the way and lay down; we'll be harder to hit." He turned to the tanks. "Keep to the other side of the bridge; if we need to destroy it to slow them down, we don't want you stuck on the wrong side. Hurry up, gentlemen; they could be watching us now!" Anderson spoke with the natural confidence born from years of being in a commanding position. Maybe he commanded a platoon for a short while; it sometimes happened. As the others scrambled to get some good positions, I shoved some of the rocks out of the way and lay down so that I was as comfortable as possible. From where I was I could easily shoot down anybody who was on the road and be relatively hard to hit.

"Keep in mind, sergeant; our shells are rationed," the Abrams commander called. "We're not allowed to expend shells on anything except tanks and APCs." He patted the M2 attached to the roof. "But on flat ground like this, this is all we'll need." Sergeant Anderson nodded to show that he had heard. Even without their main guns, the tanks would still be useful, but if the need came to use the main guns, though...

"So… you guys call in fire support?" Sam turned to look at the pair from the artillery unit.

"Yep. Battalion has a pair of Paladin guns and a pair of M270s, plus whatever our new friends dragged in with them. I got enough power in my hand to level a city," the radioman gloated.

"Good, we might need it." Anderson warned. Another silence set in. Silence had been a common occurrence while working in the field, and it would be for a long while.

"No one's being very talkative," Sam commented, breaking the silence. He always tended to do that, and I welcomed it for once. Staring straight ahead at an empty horizon was hardly interesting.

"Yeah, well, what do you expect?" One of the Marines said. "We're foot soldiers; we spend our days in the mud and out in the cold. The only people who have time to converse are those flyboys while they sip tea." He gave a mocking tone at the end of the sentence, which drew a lot of chuckles from us—it was a common joke among three of the branches. The top brass viewed the Rubinelle Air Force (RAF) as invaluable, and as such fawned over most the fighter and bomber pilots. The result was that most of them were over confident and relatively snotty. They got to go to clubs in their off time while we sat in tents.

"They're probably all crying right now, 'Oh no, my comfy bed is gone!'" Another Marine did a mocking feminine voice. Our laughter echoed through the quiet air. Poking fun at other branches was an official pastime. It was all a joke though; we worked together when it was necessary.

"Man, you see this patch," Sam pointed to his shoulder in a gloating way and I knew where he was going. "Search and rescue."

"When they go down, we're the ones who gotta bail them out." I added. "They ain't got anything on us." There was another outbreak of light laughter. In truth, it wasn't all that funny; it was more of a chance to show our nerves.

"Say, what do you think happened to the Navy and the Air Force?" The artillery spotter asked out loud. There was an awkward silence. In truth, I didn't have any idea; I hadn't meant to be offensive with the jokes, but now that I thought about it, they had been morbid. Both those branches relied on operating from dedicated bases, and if those bases were destroyed...

"Well, the shockwaves downed any aircraft that were patrolling," a Marine explained, "and we found pieces of a gunboat up a tree. Think I'm kidding?"

"Didn't the meteors that wiped out the dinosaurs cause massive tidal waves?" A grunt asked.

"Probably; hell, if we went closer to the coast I'm sure we'll find a beached carrier," the Marine shrugged. "We were lucky to be on the ground." His words drifted off into silence. It was almost impossible to talk about anything now without being morbid.

To pass the time, I reflected on the current situation some more. We should probably focus for the time being on exterminating the raiders—_those bastards are disgraceful_. Although I also pondered on how long we could operate. Food was scarce, and hunger had already been gnawing at me since last night. If there was no sun, how could we grow food? A slight feeling of panic came over me. If there was no food, then what would we do? Would we resort to being like the raiders? I'd rather put my pistol to my head and pull the trigger. I felt guilty again—more morbid thoughts; tons of people had probably taken their lives by now.

"All assets, move to higher alert status." The Battalion XO's voice suddenly came up over the radio. "We've detected a large group of raiders approaching from the east and are about to engage. A secondary attack may come from the west flank." Everyone was instantly alert. How had the raiders gotten in front of us? If they could do it, they could definitely come from behind. In less than a minute, that came true.

Sergeant Anson took his eye from the scope he had been peering through intently. "Unidentified masses approaching," he warned. We immediately snapped to full attention. My trigger finger itched slightly as I repositioned myself as I held my M4 in front of me. I pulled out some binoculars from my backpack and peered through them. A light dust was blowing, but I could still see some dark shapes in the distance. I put them back and peered down the sight of my rifle.

"Alright boys, stay sharp," Anderson told us. We all waited tensely for the shapes to materialize. The artillerymen sent word back to us that there may be possible contact incoming, and they tried to ensure there would be some artillery on standby to help us.

"Are they coming towards us?" Sam shifted uncomfortably.

"If they know we're here, they won't come close," Anderson told him. He had a point. The ground was wide open. The two snipers in the group could probably down any infantry moving against us, and the tanks would have a field day.

"What if they're massing?" Sam pointed out. I realized he had a point. "They want this bridge; they'll probably use armor to take it."

"Damn, you actually are smart," Peter commented. Sam growled.

"Hey, just because I ain't the first to volunteer for a fight doesn't mean I don't pay attention."

"Both of you stay quiet," Anson ordered. They both shut up. The radio the Marine carried crackled to life.

"This is Group C; we're under heavy fire on the right flank, enemy armor moving against us." Right flank? That was between us and group A. If the enemy punched through, they could hit either one from the rear.

"Ah, fuck," Sam muttered beside me. If we got encircled, we were as good as dead.

"Stay sharp!" Anderson commanded. He called to the tank gunners to keep the guns forward. In the distance we could hear several loud explosions from the artillery that was currently supporting group C, even if we couldn't see it.

"Hear that ordinance? Beautiful!" The artillery spotter said proudly. Would it help us when the enemy advanced on us though? The shapes were now taking form as tanks. Even after our ordeal in the city, it seemed unnatural to me to see such a vehicle used for an evil purpose.

"The cannon is ready, cover your ears!" The Abram machine gunner warned. I set my rifle down and placed both hands over my ears. Even then the sound was deafening, like thunder. I uncovered my ears while they rang a little. Did they hit something? I risked pulling out my binoculars. A burning, smoldering tank was in the middle of the road. But from behind it emerged two more Sheridan tanks bearing rogue paint schemes, then three, and then five. They were doing a rush attack!

"Get the AT ready!" Anderson ordered, and the mechanized infantrymen with us shouldered the heavy tubes and spread out. The Abram fired again, rocking back as it did, followed shortly by the Sheridan. The sound was even more deafening as another pair of tanks exploded in a bright show of flames. Still speeding ahead, the Sheridans fired. Some of the shells exploded just meters in front of us and showered us with dirt. Others soared over our heads. It was clear that whoever was operating them weren't that skilled, but it was still terrifying. What could I do against tanks with my rifle? At the moment all I could do was watch the others.

"Rain fire, boys!" The artillery radioman finished relaying coordinates. More tanks appeared, all rushing at us and firing with subpar accuracy. I had no idea there were so much armor in the region to steal, but they'd somehow found it. The Abram and Sheridan kept up fire, each round destroying or crippling a tank. From above us came a whistling sound, growing louder and heavier. Several streaks landed on the ground in front of us—rockets. We all ducked as balls of fire erupted, easily destroying most of the enemy's tanks. I looked back up and whistled softly at the destruction I had witnessed. Under normal circumstances, I normally would not witness artillery since we were meant to be deployed behind enemy lines. There were other sounds of appreciation and awe.

"We're the best, eh?" The artillery spotter said proudly while his companion radioed in.

"Keep your eyes out, there may be more of them," Anderson warned. We all tensely watched for any more signs. Our victorious attitude evaporated when a new radio transmission came in.

"This is Group C, they broke through, and we've sustained heavy casualties. We're retreating. Say again, we're falling back." Friendly soldiers were dead. I felt a bit cold at the realization. And I felt even colder when I realized that our line was breached, and we were vulnerable from behind.

"Infantry!" Someone yelled. I jerked my head back up. Raiders were advancing on us, darting for cover behind the burned tanks. Oh, damn. I brought my rifle up. I joined the others in firing a hail of gunfire towards them. The two tanks set out in firing lethal streams of bullets down range at the raiders. Several were hit and fell down on the road, dead, but I couldn't tell who fired the fatal bullets. Over the hail of gunfire, I could still hear the voice of Captain Brenner over the radio.

"All rear guard groups, you're at risk of being overrun, fall back immediately."

"Get us some covering fire!" Anderson barked at the artillery radioman. "Get ready to run, boys!" Several soldiers stayed to slow any more infantry while the rest of us climbed to the other end of the ditch and perched ourselves to get ready to run. Both the tanks rotated around, but the tank commanders kept their turrets facing the same way.

"Cover inbound!" The radioman warned. Another series of fireballs erupted on the other side of the bridge, throwing up some charred tank remains, obliterating men, and throwing up a cloud too thick to see through.

"GO, GO, GO!" Anderson called. I climbed out of the ditch with the others and began running. The tanks rumbled forward, just staying in front of us. I awaited a possible bullet in the back, but the artillery had done its job. I wondered how far we were from the rest of the battalion, or if we would run into any of the other groups.

Training can only help you prepare so much. At the base, one of the drills was running several miles with all your equipment. Despite doing that every day for three years, running for our lives beside these tanks just felt different. My senses were sharper. Not even the slightest hint of fatigue plagued me.

"Where are the rest of our people?" Sam wondered out loud. "Who the hell thought we'd make a good rear guard?"

"You never shut up, do you?" The Urban Combat Division sergeant asked.

"Nope, he doesn't," I answered for him. I was wondering myself; how far behind them had the 12th Battalion left us? How close were they when they were already engaged with an enemy?

"Tanks incoming on our right!" The Sheridan commander called out. We all quickly lined up so that we were behind the safety of the Abram. That had to mean the other flank was pierced as well. Peering around the back, I could see five dust clouds in the distance. How many raiders were there? And where had they gotten enough heavy equipment to try this?

"This is the biggest attack they've launched yet," one of the Marines commented, and I realized we had some of the best timing to be saved. The tanks rotated their guns so they had a shot. Both fired at the same time, though we could not see if they hit anything. A tank round came flying and detonated on the side of the Abram, nearly deafening us. The treads broke and the massive machine dragged itself to a stop. That wasn't good; we just lost one of our mobile covers.

"Some of you take cover behind the Sheridan!" Anderson commanded. The Sheridan pulled to the side in front of the Abram while the radioman reported that we were in hot water. I couldn't really get an angle from here, so I ran with a few other soldiers behind the smaller Sheridan. I leaned and peered down the sights of my rifle. Several raider tanks were rolling over the hard ground towards us. Appearing beside them, a bike roared past, the sidecar passenger loading a belt into the machine gun. Bikes? They'd been common in the last war, but now you rarely found them outside of National Guard forces and non-combat units. I'd never seen one outside of historical documentaries.

Regardless, it was speeding towards us, nimble enough to avoid the tank's cannon and leading the machine gunner on a wild chase. I fired off a burst as he passed close by. It missed. I ejected the empty clip, slammed another into the breach and pulled the bolt back. The Sheridan rocked as it fired its cannon. While immobilized, the Abram could still fire its cannon and the driver had come up to man the second MG on the roof. From above, periodic artillery fire landed in the fields. I watched as a sidecar cart wheeled across the ground after being hit. Ha!

"Cavalry's coming boys! 12th Battalion is sending a tank company back to help us! Three minutes!" The radioman reported. Okay, three minutes was a reasonable sum. I fired at another bike as it appeared, and then at more infantry as they appeared. These guys' only tactic seemed to be to attack across flat ground. It wasn't surprising, seeing as a lot of them didn't look like soldiers. It was effective in its own way, though.

X Eight miles outside the battlefield. X

"It's pretty bad out there sir," the raider reported to the large man standing behind him. "We've already lost half our entire stock of tanks! Should I sound the retreat?" The man was hoping his leader would agree. To have stolen about forty light tanks from a tank base had been one of their most crowning achievements and gave them a lot of power. Now, it'd been nearly destroyed.

"NO!" The large man barked savagely. "I want dog face's head!" His eyes and his powerful muscles bulged. He had the air of a fighter, but he clearly lacked the grace of a thinker, or the foresight of a planner.

"Sir, we just lost our two Abrams," the raider reported when a message came over the stolen radio he carried. He swallowed and eased away when the man started growling.

"I don't care! Keep fighting!" The raiders—composed mainly of deserters, mercenaries, criminals, or desperate civilians—had gathered around the man for strength. At first, it had paid off. None of them had gone hungry, and some got to enjoy certain pleasures of life they'd never have gotten under more civilized circumstances.

Now though, many stayed out of fear. To go against the man who styled himself as 'The Beast' meant certain death. This was a lifelong career, no matter how short your life would be. But, as long as you did what the Beast commanded, you usually lived longer.

"Yes sir," the raider hesitantly replied.

X James X

The tank, which was repeatedly rocking back and forth after firing, was making my shoulder rather sore, but I kept leaning on it and firing. The whole ground was littered with burning tanks. It was probably only their disorganized leadership and the sporadic artillery fire that was saving us. I ducked to slam a fresh clip in and stood back up to acquire a target. Infantry…infantry… A Humvee came speeding from behind one of the many wrecked tanks, and the gunner on top opened fire. We all ducked down as .50 caliber bullets bounced off the frame of the tank.

"Fuck you!" The tank commander returned fire. An artillery round suddenly detonated on the road in front of us. We shrunk closer to the tank as lethal chunks of concrete rained down on us. There was an outbreak of swearing as everyone started hounding the artillery radioman.

"It came from the wrong direction, that's raider artillery!" He shouted loud enough to be heard. They stole artillery, too? Another enemy we couldn't see... great. Another round landed close by. Shouldn't we be trying to run? Had it been three minutes yet? A round landed a ways behind us. The force pushed me forward and I painfully banged my head against the metal. At least I had a helmet. We all dragged each other back up.

"Abandon the tank and run! It's our best option!" Anderson yelled once the enemy seemed to stop coming. The crew quickly abandoned the stricken tank and we stood back as the Sheridan rumbled off. We waited for the tank crew and made a quick dash. We ran along the road for several minutes without pause before anyone said anything.

"Marine, find out what's happening to the rest of the battalion," Anderson ordered. The Marine got on the radio; I couldn't hear what he was saying because artillery was still landing behind us.

"There was a minor attack on group A, but the left flank held and they finally started pulling back." He reported. "Group B should meet us soon. The raider group that came from the east has been nearly destroyed, and the enemy attack on this flank is starting to falter," he finished. We all slackened our pace slightly once we knew that we were safely out of the range of enemy artillery.

"Man, you've been doing this every day?" Sam asked.

"Normally the clashes are smaller," a grunt replied. "Like the Marine said, this is the biggest strike they've launched yet."

"Ironic," Sam commented dryly.

"At least this means they will have trouble striking again," Peter told him. Several of the others agreed with him. The casualties they were suffering were horrendous, so I wouldn't be surprised.

"Group B is here!" The Sheridan gunner called back at us. Sure enough, several soldiers and Marines could be seen on our side, following two pairs of tanks. They got onto the road with us and the enlarged group walked together in the direction the 12th Battalion was. The sound of combat behind us had all but faded, and we were pretty sure the raiders had retreated completely.

We all kept an easy pace behind the five armored vehicles. Some members of group B were carrying wounded soldiers on their shoulders, but they didn't seem to have sustained any casualties or look too banged up. To have gone up against such a surprisingly well equipped enemy with inexperienced people on our side, it was remarkable how successful we'd been.

No one was in a talking mood, so all we did was walk. Eventually, in the distance, we saw more dust clouds. It soon revealed itself to be a company of Abrams charging over the ground in loose formation. That had to have been the help the 12th Battalion sent.

"Friendly!" Several of the other soldiers let go of their weapons and started waving. I guess it was a way to prevent friendly fire. The company commander's tank stopped near us and there was a five minute break with a few words exchanged about casualties. The tank company turned and went off in the direction the raiders had gone, presumably to make sure they were gone for good. We were told to keep walking.

It took us about ten minutes before we found most of the regrouped battalion. We just stopped in the rear area where the support company was set up. The Sheridan pulled to a stop and the driver killed the engine before climbing out to stretch his legs. All the others slumped down to rest. No one was complaining, so we joined them. I flopped down and stared up the sky, the dusty, red sky. You'd think we were in hell already. After a brief rest I remembered the civilians and the city and went to go ask one of the supply personnel if they'd heard anything here.

"Well, the Captain asked them to provide shelter for all the civilians we got, you know, but the mayor, the guy in charge, turned him down," the soldier explained while he firmly tied a box down inside a transport truck Turned away? The civilians should've been helping each other! There was no reason they couldn't, not when we'd already been doing it.

"That's just wrong," I shook my head. _What are people thinking now?_

"Yep," The soldier replied, tightening a knot. "I ain't saying we should abandon them, but they ain't really useful, you know?" I couldn't really argue, but I'd sworn to protect them.

"Yeah…but still, it's our duty. Their happiness over ours."

"Perks of the job." He leaped down from the truck. "But I don't regret it." His voice seemed strained as he picked up another box. "Mind giving me a hand loading this ammo?" He asked. I grabbed an end of the box and helped put it in the back of the truck. "Captain went to talk to the leader again. Now that we saved them, he might listen."

"I hope so." I picked up another box. Peter came over, and while the three of us loaded boxes I retold what I'd heard.

"I can't believe people are already turning on each other, you think they'd at least try to salvage society." He commented. He loaded the last box and the soldier thanked us. We walked back over to where Anderson was talking with another, albeit younger, officer. A girl in a civilian nurse's robe came running over.

"Hey!" She called breathlessly. She looked at the patch of Peter's uniform. "You're a medic, right? We need some help." She gave him a pleading stare. I remembered that there were quite a few casualties. I nodded at him and he followed the nurse. I did in fact know some medical skills, obviously from my brother. I considered following them for a second except that Anderson called me over.

"Pretty heavy, huh?" He patted me roughly on the back.

"Yes sir." I yawned. The adrenaline had ebbed, and fatigue was setting in. I made an effort to stay awake.

"Battle fatigue, you'll get used to it." He called Sam over and while we were walking I told them both about the civilians.

"That's fucked up," Sam commented.

"Yeah, but your thinking like a soldier, remember that they're civilians. Different reasoning skills," Anderson offered. I hadn't thought like that because I still had a soldier's mindset.

_Leave no one behind. Protect what you hold dear with your life. That's me. But what are they?_I thought as we walked back to the part of the camp for combat units. There was an outbreak of muttering and we got caught when the crowd around us surged to one place.

"Captain's back," someone called. The crowd stepped aside as Captain Brenner and Lieutenant Lin came walking though, followed by some kid I'd never seen before, and who looked like a military cadet. Wordlessly, the Captain climbed on top of a tank and called for everyone to gather around. He waited for a minute for everyone else to come up before he began.

"You've all done great today," he began, "and I understand our rear guard forces suffered a surprise attack, but responded with bravery in force. Your efforts are appreciated." I nodded at myself. We held the line even if those bastards had showed up with more tanks than we thought possible. I listened as the Captain went on. "And I give my thanks to the men who engaged the raiders who appeared just outside of the city. Brenner's Wolves have one yet another battle for law, order, peace, and life." He had to stop because of applause from everyone present.

_Those are definitely what we fight for._

"Today, the raiders sustained heavy losses and their control and influence have no doubt faded, thanks to you all. This is now a much safer place for all civilians seeking shelter thanks to you." I felt a twinge of pride at this. This was why I joined; this is why I fought. "But our job is not over yet," he went on, speaking up over the murmur of self-appreciation rippling through the crowd. "We just found out where the raider's main base is and where they will most likely regroup." A silence gripped the crowd, and so did the type of aggression soldiers showed when threatened. We knew where they were; it was time to go kick their asses!

"We have given our word that we will clean this problem up once and for all." He stopped to allow more cheering. "There is no time to waste on this matter, so we'll move out in three hours, I want everyone to prepare. Remember," he warned, "that they are still very dangerous and skilled opponents." I didn't care how skilled they may have been or what they had. They'd made a mistake trying to attack civilians, and they were going to pay for it.

X Two hours later. X

War was not just about fighting. It involved planning, logistics, and many other factors. Before we could move against the raiders, we had to handle those issues. Planning was a task left up to the officers. But for us at the bottom, we had to contribute to make sure we had the means to fight. Unfortunately, these contributions were not always modest.

"This is so wrong," I shook my head sadly. Supplies were such a rare commodity, and we were resorting to desperate measures to stay afloat. That was why I was now digging through the pockets of a raider. All around me, other men and women walked through the wasteland looking for corpses. Engineering vehicles stopped near wrecked raider vehicles.

The bodies were stripped of the weapons and ammunition, military or civilian grade, and event their clothes. Destroyed vehicles were scavenged for parts and gas, or scrap metal. A few that had been abandoned were pressed into use for the battalion. Shallow, unmarked graves were dug for the bodies and the smoldering remains of military vehicles were left to the elements.

_This isn't what I signed up for..._Even if it was a means to an end, I took no pleasure in taking from a corpse. Would this really help save humanity? This seemed to be so far down the chain that there seemed no chance to pull ourselves back up... I was just a private, so it wasn't my place to ask. I took a shotgun, a handgun, and a few matching rounds off the body. This particular casualty had been close to an exploding tank, so the clothes were useful. I pulled out my digging tool and buried him in the ground.

I dropped the items off at a designated pick up point for the supply trucks and went looking for another corpse. This had been where group A had held off the enemy before retreating. I could see their success was because only a few APCs and civilian vehicles had tried to force their way across here. There were still plenty of bodies, though. I walked to a part of the landscape that looked untouched and looked for a body that was still in one piece.

"Huh?" My eyes caught sight of an abandoned APC and I quickly brought myself back to investigate. There was a body lying behind it, the upper portion just out of sight. What caught my eyes was that this body was wearing an Army uniform, but there was something about the rucksack he was carrying that picked at the back of my mind. It looked familiar. Could it be... no, it would never happen. I approached cautiously and looked around at the rest of the body. There, I found the body of a dead Army private, with a patch of the 18th Heliborne proudly stuck on his shoulder.

I blinked several times, thinking it was an illusion that would go away. Sgt. Anderson had said they thought some people had deserted, but I'd never thought one of our own actually would, let alone join a group like the raiders. "What the fuck did you do?" I asked as I leaned down and closed his eyes. I was still kind of shocked, so I didn't immediately begin stripping the body of valuable military supplies.

Instead, I reached into his pocket; I was curious. I wanted to see if there was more to this person. I didn't find a wallet, but my hand did grab onto something square. I pulled a picture out and turned it over to look. It was the same soldier in his dress uniform, smiling happily with a baby in his arms. I looked down at the now-blank face of the corpse. He may have done a lot of bad things in the past few days, but I couldn't help but feel sorry. Was that why he'd done this?

"There were other ways," I murmured sadly. I grabbed the rifle he carried and pulled the vest off, together with all the stuff it carried. The boots would be useful, too. When the time came, I took a little more care in digging the grave when I barely hacked a few feet down for the rest. Maybe I was being biased, but I was just compelled to do so for the time being. "You made a bad choice," I went on as I piled the dirt back in. I wanted to make it sound accusing, yet I couldn't find it in myself to do so. In the state the world was in, how many more bad choices would be made? How many would _I _make?

I tried not to ponder on that thought any longer as I made my way back to camp.


	7. Moving On

Note: As of November 2014, this chapter has been revised and reposted.

X Tim X

"Dude, you've been staring out the window all day…" One of Stone's pilots spoke up from where he was sitting on a giant toolbox.

"You never know man; they could be just a mile away right now." His companion, another one of Stone's pilots, was standing on a shelf to get a look through the hanger window. I listened to them absentmindedly. It was Day Thirteen since things went to shit, if the calendar we'd found was right. Needless to say, paranoia had set in. Most of the flyboys were convinced that there was an entire Lazurian division on our tail, intent on killing us. Hell, for all I knew it was true.

After some well-deserved sleep after the attack, the others, lead by Kim, had organized a small memorial for their fallen comrade. After that, we flew about fifty miles south to another commercial airport. That was the thing about this country; there were military bases, air bases, and airports everywhere. Since things looked unfriendly up north, we hadn't really had a choice but to cool our heels here for a while and try and survive.

But this one was completely destroyed; only the runway and a few hangars remained. That was why we'd all been staying in one of them. There was no air conditioning, no beds, no bathrooms (much to Kim and Sarah's discomfort), no privacy (also to the girls' displeasure), and barely any spare room. But, it was a shelter, which was a real fucking rarity now. We were far from the known comfort the Air Force offered to its pilots. Although uncomfortable, it would be a great place to hide if the Lazurians found us again.

Ah, the Lazurians, the only thing people talked about now. I didn't have much use for people, let alone those from other countries, but I'd been thinking about them. If someone's out for your throat, you pretty much have to. Sarah and I would have to watch our backs, and the other's backs too, since we'd need their help. Even without Stone's suggestion, some of us had already discussed battle tactics and contingency plans. It did more to make us work together than Waylon ever did.

It was a nice change of pace from this people, but in my head I was keeping my options open. _Always have to in this world._ If things got really bad, Sarah and I could still go off on our own. We hadn't discussed it, but we were both thinking of it, I knew. Scientists and a whole lot of other people have talked about how people naturally form into groups to survive as some sort of instinct. Sarah and I thought differently because we had experience.

The two of us, being the unlucky people we are, had grown up in an orphanage during the last war. Aside from there being even less resources from the government to give to us, the place had gotten more and more crowded every fucking day 'cause you had soldiers dying and homes getting bombed every day. The government hadn't really given a damn about us before then, and they certainly didn't want to waste time and people on us with a war going on, so things only got worse. Sarah and I cut it on our own because what little resources the government had had then was focused on younger kids. And, since they were idiots, a lot of the older kids stuck there decided to become fuck ups because no one would pay attention to them. Part of the reason I was so damn strong was because I was getting into fights everyday over something as simple as a piece of bread.

It was like that through the entire war and for a long time after it. By the time things started easing out, we'd pretty much gotten used to rely just on each other, and it had stayed like that to this day, even if we'd gotten a little soft. _We could do it again, though. _If you survive something once, you can do it again. The circumstances might've been different, but I was willing to admit Sarah had been right about it being similar enough.

Still, it was weird to think about what I thought was a lifetime away, although parts of it did seem relevant now. If Sarah's... issue... at the airport was any indication, some of that stuff would come back to bite us in the ass now, which was why Sarah had probably thought about it and dragged my mind onto the subject. In a way, this was kind of like starting a third life. As the thought crossed my mind, I frowned. _Since when did I start thinking about stuff like this?_

"Because for whatever reason, you only use your smart side when there's a problem." Tucked away next to me in a corner of the hangar, Sarah made me jump when she spoke.

"How the hell do you do that?" I asked. That had actually freaked me out.

"You're an easy person to read." Sarah shrugged and stretched her arms up. Was I that transparent?

"Women..." I muttered.

"What would you do without us?" Sarah patted me on the head. "I could tell because I know you don't like thinking about anything 'deep'. And that's the situation we're in now." It was like I'd always said: she was my smarter half. "Don't like making hard choices?" I glanced around to make sure no one was listening before answering.

"Getting the hell out of here wouldn't really be a hard choice." Sarah nodded, agreeing with me. "But if things are to improve at all, someone has to do something. And it might be us." Sarah nodded and looked at the patches on both our uniforms. Whatever that was, it would have to include staying with the Air Force, at least for now. If I felt outgunned even with the helicopter, I'd feel bare ass naked without it.

"That, or if someone makes the wrong move," Sarah suggested, and we both turned our eyes to the center of the hangar where some sort of meeting was about to take place.

"Hey man, anyone think they can beat the master in cards?" Waylon boasted as he shuffled a deck in his hand. He was becoming more and more an enemy than a nuisance. Kim had been frantic yesterday because, according to her, someone had been watching her all day. Needless to say, she was acting a little weird now. I was too busy to worry about that incident; Sarah could deal with it. It was a power balance, if you will, that worried me. Waylon still held a monopoly on the food. Plus, two of the pilots from Vulture Squadron had grown suspiciously close to him in the past few days, like bodyguards. Even if that left the odds at three against eleven, it was still worrying. Stone was keeping a close eye on the situation, but I had doubts the old man would be able to do much. Waylon's aggressive attitude was getting annoying, too. All day he would talk about finding and fighting the Lazurians. He didn't even seem to care about the one casualty we had sustained, even to the point of asking 'Who?' when it was brought up.

Even if we were working together for survival's sake, Waylon was putting a strain on that. Things were tense, everyone was a little on edge, and I'll be damned if I knew what would happen next. If this kept up, something _would _happen, but we didn't know what it would be. I was sure of one thing, though; if things got really bad, I knew exactly whom I would aim for.

X James X

I honestly had not stopped to think how far away the raiders would be. It had taken us half a day to get reorganized and battle ready, and it had taken a whole day itself to get to their camp, but we were here. Something about this area was different. The ash in the sky was even thicker, and as a result, the whole area was covered in pitch-black darkness compared to the usual twilight. It was like a thick blanket being held over your head, and I could barely see ten feet ahead of me. It wasn't too much of an obstacle, since the armored vehicles had night optics, and most of the infantry had standard issued goggles. For those who did not have goggles, the Battalion's scout platoon had two flare-launching vehicles.

Part of the darkness came from the battlefield, which was in a thick forest, interspersed with a large number of hills. Just staring into the trees was giving us an uneasy feeling. The raiders had chosen this area since it was a defensible position; it also suited their character to a tee. Darkness or not, we were going to push them out of here.

Captain Brenner had given us all a pep talk. He warned us that they still had a decent amount of light equipment and we would be attacking a defensive position. But he also reminded us why we were fighting: to protect the civilians. I tried to ignore the photo I'd found and think of all the things they had done to all the innocent survivors.

Our objectives were to capture the Army maintenance post the raiders had taken over, and to destroy any of their forces stationed either inside or outside the base. Because of the risk of friendly fire, the use of artillery had been restricted for the battle. This fight would be a close-quarters brawl.

The plan was this: first, one of the Battalion's mechanized infantry companies would move on its own two miles behind the base to intercept any raiders who would certainly flee when we attacked, while the provisional infantry company would move on foot through the woods towards the base itself. Then, the Marine battalion would secure the one road leading to the facility for the 12th Battalion's tanks to use. Once they were in place, a company of light tanks and half of the Battalion's organic infantry component would then storm the base and clear the bastards out. The heavy tanks would forgo their infantry escorts and attempt to skewer the base, as well as to provide close-range artillery support when needed. The rest of the units that were kept in reserve would then clean up whatever resistance remained.

The mechanized infantry company had already moved into position half an hour ago, and everyone else had moved into position. A lot of us were lying in a clearing near the woods, and heavy armor sat on the road behind us. We weren't moving just yet, and it was becoming unbearable.

"Dude, I am fucking cold," Sam shivered beside me, moving uncomfortably with the radio strapped on his back. It was cold everywhere, but even colder here to go with the darkness. We were waiting for a recon unit that had been sent in to observe enemy strength and locations ahead of the battle. We had to wait in place in the meantime, and that meant getting cold. The lot of us was huddled side by side on the ground, but I still wished I could light a fire.

"You're shaking like a dog," Peter complained.

"F—fuck you," Sam chattered. I hope there weren't a whole lot of places like this in the country; our ability to survive was being pushed to the limit already by the food shortages.

"Peter, we should be okay, right?" I asked. I wasn't sure how the raiders survived here. _Probably because their hearts are as cold as the weather here._

"As long as we keep our uniforms on, we should be okay. Our faces might get numb, though," he warned.

"Pfft, you boys think this is bad?" Anderson smirked. "I've been in worse." We didn't doubt that. Before he could elaborate, the radios across the line came to life.

"All units," Lieutenant Lin's voice came over the radio sitting next to us, "we've confirmed the raiders are using a former tank base as their staging area. The base is located northeast of our current position, and enemy forces are likely in and around it. Remember, all Army soldiers will advance to the base through the woods; the Marines will secure the road for the armor. Prepare to move once scout unit Bravo gives the word." The line went dead. We all stood up and flipped the safety switches on our guns off. It was time. We all waited, and the only sound I could hear was our breathing. The radio came to life again.

"All units!" It was Captain Brenner's voice this time. "Scout unit Bravo has been taken out, all units advance quickly; they know we're here." At once, the powerful diesel engines of the tanks roared to life.

"Let's go, boys!" Anderson ordered. We took off. Inhaling the cold air only seemed to make me feel colder, but I kept running. The goggles only faintly lit the woods, but it was enough keep me from running into a tree or tripping on a root. There wasn't time to think now, only act.

"So, they know for certain we're all here?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, they just don't know exactly where we are," Anderson replied. "We can at least half-surprise them before they flee." We continued blundering through the half-dead trees. I could hear other soldiers around us and the rumble of tanks a few meters behind me. As far I could see, all that was ahead was a dark, endless forest. I just had to remember that I wasn't lost and that there was a base ahead.

It is easy to lose track of time in combat or when you're more fixated on your surroundings. I honestly could not say how long we were walking before we got close to the base. We'd heard some explosions in the distance a while ago, no doubt our tanks engaging enemy stragglers. I could only faintly hear the tanks behind us now, but through my goggles I could see something through the mass of trees. We found a group of soldiers crouched behind a knocked-over tree.

"Don't get too close, those are watch towers equipped with MGs," one of them warned. Anderson decided we would take cover a few paces further down the tree line. The thing about night vision goggles is that when you stare at a lit place, you'll be blind. That is why I took them off when I looked out. There was a large, steel wall surrounding the whole complex, from which light could be seen from the inside. There were also searchlights scanning the tree line. They were savages, but they were smart. For now all we could do is to wait for the tanks—if they survived, that is. The searchlight delved deep into the trees; I pressed closer to the ground. None of us had breached the base yet, but the rumble of heavy and light engines inside it were unmistakable. Anson yanked Sam over to him rather roughly and grabbed the radio.

"Command, we have reason to suspect that the enemy may be trying to flee," Anson reported. There was a moment of silence.

"Understood, several units already reported the same, and we've Company C in reserve. Be ready to assault the base," Captain Brenner responded.

"I can't even hear our tanks," Sam complained. From somewhere in the dark forest, gunfire erupted, followed closely by a series of explosions.

"I wonder if that's a few of them trying to slip past us and escape," I snorted.

"Remember, we already blew up most their shit," Anderson smirked. "They don't have anything much to face us."

"And now they're trapped," Anson reminded.

"Cornered prey is the most dangerous kind." Peter remembered the saying.

"Yep," Anderson nodded. There was a large explosion behind us. The searchlight went out and the flaming wreckage of the watchtower landed at the tree line.

"Tanks are here, get ready," Anderson ordered. I made sure my rifle was still clean and working. Two more explosions took out the other guard towers, though we couldn't see it. We all silently advanced to the tree line by the road. Two Abrams sat idly in front of the large steel door serving as the gate, and they both brought their cannons down to aim. We all covered our ears.

The quick succession of fire hit the gate hard and it rocked heavily. One of the tanks rumbled forward. Being dented in, the gate fell forward when the tank hit it, but it was not heavy enough and it slid to the ground. Both Abrams forced their way into the camp, cannons and machineguns blazing. Enemy fire, including some anti-tank ordinance, harmlessly bounced off their armor.

As the pair of Abrams pushed deeper into the facility, three more came up the road and entered before a platoon of Sheridans rode up and stopped by the gate. The platoon leader stood up in his copula and looked around for us. Although tanks are capable of defeating large numbers of enemies on their own, only infantry could hold ground. Odds were we'd have to mop up a few stubborn remnants as well.

Several officers started calling for their men to advance. We all emerged from the trees and ran into the base, and there were at least three hundred of us who did. Even if at least fifty enemy personnel were lying dead around the entrance, we could not have received a warmer greeting. Raiders were firing from windows and rooftops after waiting for the Abrams to pass by. One of the Sheridans was already a smoldering inferno and the others were overwhelmed with targets. I had to throw myself to the ground in the vain hope it would save me. Several other soldiers were cut down before even getting through the gate. Their buddies pulled them out of the way while another pair of Sheridans pulled into the base to help out. We were already taking heavy casualties, and our guys were barely inside.

A newly-arrived Sheridan fired, silencing a machine gun on top of an MP barracks. It rolled in, followed shortly by another. From the dirt, I watched all of them fire at buildings with limited success. Small bands of infantry advanced and started swarming the immediate buildings. Caught in the open under a hail of bullets, I lifted my rifle and fired a few suppressing shots at one of the enemy-occupied buildings.

A pair of arms grabbed me and dragged me roughly away. Without a word, Anderson let go once we were behind the cover of a security checkpoint booth and took aim with his machine gun, laying down more suppressing fire. Peter was helping one of the wounded, and Sam was trying to get a target with a rifle. I ducked over to where Peter was.

"You okay?" He asked me, not looking up from the soldier he was treating.

"I'm fine." I took a deep breath. They were dug in hard, but I wasn't backing down. "Orders, sergeant?" I asked Anderson.

"Wait a few minutes; things are calming down," he ordered. Another platoon, this one of Abrams, rolled into the area and, side by side in the small area, was blasting away at the buildings our men weren't clearing. With the immediate area reduced to rubble, the gunfire stopped; we'd secured the entrance. "Now we're in," he said confidently.

The chaos hadn't subsided yet due to the nearly fifty casualties we'd sustained, four-fifths of which were wounded. Casualties were evacuated by truck and APC, and a forward medic post was set up in the surrounding buildings. The Marines were holding the road in case any raiders were still outside the base, so half of the provisional infantry company and the heavy tank platoon formed a perimeter to guard the entrance.

Five infantry platoons were dispatched with an escorting Sheridan, and the remaining infantry—those of us from the provisional tank company—were sent on foot to clear each building. We climbed over the rubble of the collapsed buildings, where the sounds of fighting were beginning to pick up. Along the way, we passed over the groaning bodies of raiders who were left by their comrades as they fled. I didn't have any second thoughts as to leaving them die on the battlefield.

_No pity from me, you bastards. You brought this on yourselves._

X Inside the base. X

The thin veil of order and organization the raiders had formed fell apart in the darkness that was surrounded by the sounds of combat. Many of the raiders had fled as soon as the first tanks had been sighted, taking what supplies and weapons they could and fleeing into the surrounding forests and mountains, where many would eventually starve to death. Others held the 12th Battalion back and fought to the death, unwilling to face either trial or a lonely death in the nearby mountains. Only about two hundred of them, mostly mercenaries and former soldiers, stayed with their leader and gathered in the motor pool, which was nothing more but a dirt yard with a flimsy tin roof above it.

"Move, roaches!" The Beast bellowed at them. Those gathered were the best armed, most competent, and most obedient men (women found other 'uses' within the band) he recruited. Even if the rest were fleeing, they were all he'd need. The home advantage hadn't been enough to help him this time, but once he got out of here and reorganized, he'd put soldier boy right into the dirt!

The men still with him were loading and starting the vehicles that would be most useful to them: two tanks and five APCs they'd saved from destruction in the last battle. Behind them were two dozen armored Humvees with fully loaded machine guns on top, and also a number of military cargo trucks carrying the supplies and fuel that they'd need. The rest of the vehicles, military or civilian, were to be left behind. A few savvy raiders took a few seconds to slash the tires or fire into the engine as a final sign of defiance to the enemy.

The heavy tanks were nearly upon the motor pool when The Beast climbed into the lead tank and ordered the convoy out. Eyes wild and nostrils flaring, he kept his eyes on what he'd made his home for the past, oh-so-wonderful weeks of his life. "I'll be back, soldier boy!" He roared into the darkness.

X James X

We were sent to the eastern part of the base where the barracks were—the building still had electricity, so it was likely in use. Accompanied by a squad of cavalrymen from yesterday, we breached the building five minutes ago and agreed to check the second floor while the mechanized infantrymen cleared the first. Food, trash, and other junk were lying around the hallway, but the people who'd left the mess hadn't shown themselves yet. Where were they?

Most of the doors were left open, and the five of us, using hand signals to communicate, carefully checked each room. Many of them were in the same disgusting shape, but they also had supplies in them—weapons, ammo, and batteries. The Battalion's supply company would have a lot to pick up after the battle concluded, but we would have to finish it first.

We checked room after room, all of which were clear. As Sam and I came out of another, a sound further down the hall grabbed both of our attention. We saw a door down the hall budge slightly and we quickly approached to investigate.

"Who's there?" I called. Nothing. I moved my rifle over the door. It was cracked open, and I was fairly certain it'd been opened earlier. "I'm warning you…" I said again. Again, nothing. Better safe than sorry. I squeezed the trigger and the rifle bucked back on my shoulder. There was a small thud and the door was pushed close. I poked my head in to see a raider holding a combat knife in his hand, blood pooling beneath him. It was a bit insulting to my intelligence, really. "One raider down," I called back.

"Got it!" Anderson replied. We continued moving through the barracks. Down the hallway, another raider who had the same trick in his mind bolted from one of the rooms and tried to escape down the hall way. Sam, me, and Sgt. Anson all opened fire, and he went down like a sack of potatoes. Stupid cowards.

"That all of you? Come out and fight!" I taunted.

"Why are you encouraging them?" Sam asked as he peeked into another room.

"They deserve it," I shrugged. Everyone, even Sam, agreed with me. We cleared each room and declared the hallway secure, and informed HQ about the supplies. That being done, we continued our clearing. "Whoa," I froze when I walked into the floor's lounge. Being in pitch darkness, I pulled my goggles back on, which lit the room enough to make walking a bit easier.

"This is freaky, dude," Sam commented.

"Scared of the dark?" Peter asked.

"You call this dark? Ha!" Anderson laughed. After tripping on a few chairs we pushed our way through a set of doors into a stairway, where we ran into the squad that had been clearing the first floor. They informed us it was clear and volunteered to clear the last floor, telling us to head back outside. We agreed and headed for the ground floor, taking off our goggles as we returned outside that was lit by a few electrical lights and a few isolated fires.

The situation outside was still chaotic, but it seemed like the whole Battalion was here now—it was only a matter of time before the battle was over. We followed one of the roads further in. Considering the place where it was built, the buildings on the base were packed tight together, and we had to constantly check the rooftops and windows above our heads. It looked more like a city in some places.

If I had to make a guess, I'd say we were one of the last squads moving through the base—most of the buildings already looked cleared. We did see squads holding certain junctions or important buildings, and two of directed us to head for the base's mess hall. "Must be a ton of supplies there," a 10th Infantry Division sergeant explained. "Those bastards are holding onto it with everything they got." If they wanted it, then that meant we wanted it, too.

It wasn't hard to find the mess hall; we just had to go where the fighting was loudest. Before we even got there, we passed men and vehicles carrying the wounded back to the rear. The exchange of gunfire was constant. The mess hall was located on a corner road, and our own infantry had taken position on the roofs and in the windows of the surrounding buildings. A few Sheridans sat in the street in front of the mess hall, and they were arrayed in a way that allowed infantry to approach the front entrance without being exposed.

The raiders had barricaded the entrance and the windows and were largely grouped on the roof. Most of the noise was from machine gunners on either side trying to kill the other. Shell casings were constantly falling and clinking on the concrete. For fear of destroying the building, the tanks didn't respond with their cannons. There was a platoon's worth of infantry crowded behind the tanks, ready to storm the building when the chance came. We fell in behind them.

"We got a plan?" Sergeant Anderson shouted at the 12th Battalion lieutenant present.

"At this point? We're just waiting for them to burn through their ammo. Bastards can't have that much of it. Just sit tight, sergeant, we'll get an opening." And so wait we did. We hunkered down behind the tanks and tried to keep ourselves from going deaf from the incessant gunfire. The more I listened, the more I realized that really was our only plan. Our gunners were firing just enough to bait a response, and the raiders were being stupid and responding with everything they had.

After nearly ten minutes, the gunfire slowed before eventually halting. For a brief moment, the base was entirely silent until gunfire started up a little ways to the north. Whether we'd killed their gunners or they had run out of ammo, I didn't know, but it was safe to approach the mess hall. "Take care of that barrier, corporal!" The lieutenant ordered, and one of his men left cover with an AT-4 on his shoulder. He took aim and fired. Normally designed to take out tanks, the rocket easily destroyed the barrier the raiders had constructed. "Secure the building!" He ordered.

All men present left cover and headed for the entrance while the soldiers who'd taken over the surrounding buildings came down to form a perimeter. We waited for the mechanized platoon to enter before following. One squad stayed and secured the mess hall while the rest of them headed into the kitchen. There were brief exchanges of gunfire within.

"Clear!" Someone called. We assisted that platoon as it spread out and checked the whole building, while one of its squads headed up to clear the roof.

"Building clear!" We heard the lieutenant's voice say over the radio. We found him in the kitchen with some of his men, looking at something that captivated our eyes.

"Whoa," Sam said. He wasn't the only one; a lot of soldiers were saying similar things. The area where food was kept was overflowing with food. There were some military rations, but a lot of it was civilian food: frozen cheeseburgers, chips, cupcakes, and a whole lot of other foods I couldn't name. Having gotten by on a meager supply of MREs the last few days, my stomach responded to the sight mournfully. In my mind I knew this food was stolen; I could even see one package with a tag that read "St. Mary's Orphanage" with a couple of bloody handprints on it.

_This belongs to civilians. We'll have to give it back._We did a lot of good getting this from the raiders.

"You're from the provisional tank company, right?" The lieutenant asked. "Thanks for the assist." We hadn't contributed all that much, but we'd been right there with them. That was enough.

"No problem, sir," Sergeant Anderson nodded. "Need help securing this site?" The lieutenant shook his head.

"We're overstretched as it is," he explained. "The Marines are holding the road and the provisional infantry company is holding a few key junctions near the entrance. The 12th's other infantry company is behind the base, and my platoon and the one outside are two-thirds of the other." By that count, the only men free to continue clearing the base were the other platoon and the infantry from the provisional tank company. "We got this here, sergeant, but you should head back outside."

"Yes sir," Sergeant Anderson agreed. "Let's go!" We waved and the four of us followed him back outside. With the mess hall captured, the sounds of combat had faded even further. "Let's head to the north side of the base," Sergeant Anderson decided. "If there's another entrance to this place, it'll have to be there." Other forces might've reached it already, but they would have to hold it from raiders still trying to flee.

"This fight is nearly finished," Sam remarked as we jogged along, not passing anyone else. Most of the 12th Battalion's other forces really were tied up holding ground. "These guys may be vicious, but they're idiots, especially during that last battle!" Sam seemed to have forgotten his own reactions during that fight.

"Some of their members are combat veterans," Sergeant Anson reminded him. "Don't underestimate them." Sam didn't want to argue, and he changed the subject instead.

"So, what comes next once these guys are gone?" He asked. "Do we just help set up a few towns and cities and hope society rebuilds on its own?" I didn't know an answer to that. To think of something else besides putting the raiders in the dust like I'd focused on the past few days put me off. It was probably a valid question, but not one I really thought we should bother with; it was outside our area of expertise.

"Leave that to your commanding officers, private," Sergeant Anson warned him again. Sam shut up after that.

We advanced along the streets towards the far end of the base. When we rounded one street, we could faintly see a Sheridan under a lamppost still working on the base. The tank commander saw us and gripped the tank's machine gun, but didn't raise it.

"We're with the provisional tank company!" Sergeant Anderson shouted to avoid an unfortunate misunderstanding.

"Motor pool is in there!" The tank commander jabbed his thumb to the large garage behind us. "Head in there and ask the lieutenant if you need orders." We walked past the tank and headed for the opened garage doors.

"Jesus," Sam muttered when we entered the vehicle pool. It was an ugly mess inside. Bodies of raiders were splayed on the ground, and one was even pressed into the mud like he'd been run over by a tank. The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline, more powerful than the smells of war outside, made us nauseous—we all had to pull out our gas masks to avoid passing out. Nearly every vehicle here had been diligently and expertly sabotaged so as to make it useless to either side.

"Bastards," I muttered through the filter. The area had been secured by the 12th Battalion's last mechanized platoon, whose members were also wearing gas masks. One of their sergeants came up to meet us.

"The battle over?" Anderson asked. The sergeant shrugged.

"Few of them escaped north and broke through our lines. Managed to kill about twenty of them, but another hundred or so got away with a pair of tanks and some trucks' worth of supplies. The fighting here is done, though."

"So, we won the battle, but the war is still on, eh?" Neither Sergeant Anderson nor Sergeant Anson seemed surprised. "Well, they've been set back a long ways, at least." They sounded content with it, but I wasn't. If some of those bastards were still out there, they could still hurt people. We'd have to finish them off.

As Anderson had said, the battle seemed to be all but over. A few minutes later, Captain Brenner announced a halt in offensive operations and the establishment of a perimeter around the area while all useful supplies were being retrieved. While we were posted to watch an area near the base's perimeter fence, I had a bad taste in my mouth the whole time.

_This is all wrong._Even if the battle was over, it still didn't feel like much of an accomplishment. Maybe it was because there were still a lot of problems to face? With things all peaceful and quiet, I thought back to what Sam had said, and I started to wonder the same thing. _What will we do after the raiders are gone? _I had no idea what lay for us beyond that.

Nevertheless, I was still a soldier. Fighting or no fighting, I still had my duties, and I would go on doing it until I had no more strength left in me.


	8. New Allies I

Notice: Chapter has been revised as of November 2014

X Tim X

"Goddamnit," I muttered as a gust of wind extinguished the cigarette for the third time.

"Maybe it's a sign?" Sarah said jokingly from where she was sitting against the side of the hangar. She never criticized me for smoking, but she never really supported the idea, either. I gave up and tucked the cigarette back in its case before sitting down next to her.

"Nah, it's just this fucked up weather. Fucking cold out here," I muttered. Sarah nodded in agreement and rested her head on my shoulder. "Hell, the orphanage was better than this!" I remembered some of the colder nights when the old heating system they had kept breaking down.

"Can't argue there," Sarah sighed. She scooted over so that she was sitting in my lap. "These conditions are horrible."

"The people, too," I agreed as I wrapped my arms around her waist. "I don't know how much longer I can stand this."

"Some of them aren't that bad," Sarah told me. "No one has killed each other yet, haven't they? Besides, there has to be SOMEONE else out there. I'm not going to believe we're the only people left alive."

"We've traveled over two hundred miles and there's not a single person," I reminded her. "Something is clearly fucked up here; how the hell were we the only soldiers, or people for that matter, to survive for miles around?" It was really freaky to see all these places turn into sudden ghost towns.

"Maybe we waited so long to do something, and everyone already left their homes to go somewhere safer?" Sarah suggested. "Or maybe Lazuria has something do with it?"

"Bastards," I growled. Like I said, I didn't care about anything except for the fact that they tried to kill me. "I highly doubt they have something powerful enough to cause this much damage. They never modernized their military even after the last war, and I'd like to see something that old do damage like this."

"Maybe something we had stored here went off?" Sarah suggested. That was still something we were all willing to believe.

"Possible." I scratched my face where my facial hair was still growing; I wasn't used to it. "Keeping weapons of mass destruction sounds like something our government would do. Letting it go off would also be something they would do. Doesn't explain the Lazurians though…" I scratched my head. _Everyone always did this cloak-and-dagger shit since the last war. Can't even tell what's what anymore._

"Whatever is going on, we'll just have to ride it out," she sighed. I reluctantly agreed with her. I hated being dependent on anyone or being unable to move freely, but what could you do? We sat there and enjoyed the silence for a while. No stuck up prissy pilots, no one shooting at us, and no Captain Jackass—just the two of us enjoying some of our first time alone in days.

It was still a weird feeling, getting to be close like this again. In fact, it was weird being aware of everything around me. I'd kind of fallen into a mindless trance these last ten years, and I barely remembered them. I was just some random guy, now suddenly one of the last men on earth. Sounded like a stupid T.V movie, if you ask me.

"Hmm…"

"What?" Sarah asked.

"Just thinking how weird it is now," I admitted. "I got so sucked into a boring life on the Air Force base, getting into something new like this is a weird feeling. I know what you mean when you mentioned the orphanage: we have to be aware of everything around us now." I was making a comparison and not remembering particular events, so it wasn't that bad to me.

"Yeah. Even some old problems are starting to show up again." Sarah made it sound like an offhand remark, but I suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"Uh... Yeah, I guess." Sarah seemed to realize things were getting awkward, so she dropped the subject.

"It'll fix itself eventually," she said, "and then we won't have to worry about any of it again." That day seemed a long time away, but I really hoped it would hurry up. Despite that awkward moment, we were able to sit there for a good while, just relaxing, until the cold eventually started seeping in our flight suits that we had to go inside the hangar. Sarah went to hang out with Kim for a bit, so I had to find something to keep myself busy. After an hour or so, the thought of hanging out together with Sarah and Kim seemed like a better idea—at least compared to what I was doing now.

"Two aces." Mitch threw down the cards.

"Fold."

"Fold."

"Fold." I threw down my cards. I was fucking bored to death of this game by now, since it was literally the only thing anyone had brought with them. It was getting on my nerves. There were no forms of entertainment here, there were too many people for any 'private' time, and there was nothing outside.

I was beginning to hope we'd be moving again soon. I'd seen Stone talking to an annoyed Waylon on more than one occasion. I still hated that guy and his two new cronies as well. Tensions were higher than ever, and I was still amazed we hadn't drawn our guns on each other yet. "You know what, I'm out." I stood up and stretched.

"Suit yourself, man; nothing else to do anyway," one of the pilots shrugged. I still didn't know everyone's name.

"Boring, eh?" Shaun said.

"No shit. How long have we been sitting here anyway? Can't even tell the time anymore." I stared at the skyline above me. "Fucked up," I muttered again. Shaun shrugged. Frustrated, I got back up again. Man, I wished something would happen. I looked around. Those guys were playing cards. The girls were locked in some conversation. Stone was sitting in a corner with a frown on his face, and Waylon was chatting with his cronies. Grumbling, I walked out towards the runway. Maybe the wind had finally died down?

Luckily, it had. I pulled out the same cigarette and lit it. I really needed to go easy. That was one of the worst parts of things: no comforts. No grocery stores, no liquor stores, no pharmacies, nothing at all. Talk about rough. _Maybe I'll have to give up smoking—and that'll be the day I know things are fucked up beyond all reason._

I looked up at the sky again. It was big, whatever it was. Back at the orphanage, our survival had been a little more basic: stealing a few bits of extra food, protecting what little space we could call our own, and trying to avoid getting fucked over by someone else. If we decided to cut it on our own out here, it'd be the more basic 'kill-the-guy-and-take-his-shit' stuff. Talk about an upgrade.

_I wonder if I'll ever get my pensions. __Damn it, why the hell am I thinking about stuff like that?_

Sometimes, the only thing you could hear was the wind. Sometimes, the wind died down and you couldn't hear anything. The wind wasn't blowing just then, so I was able to pick up voices from behind me, coming all the way from the hangar. They sounded... excited? "What are those idiots howling about?" I turned and started walking back. Sarah came out before I got there and waved for me to hurry.

"Guess what?" She asked as I jogged over. "That radio we brought with us? It's picking up a transmission!"

"Holy shit..." I remarked, and we both got back into the hangar quickly. Hell, I guess things were still moving forward for us. Everyone was crowded around the crate we'd set the dinged-up piece of shit on, but it wasn't making any noise when we got there. We got an explanation real quick.

"We just heard a transmission!" Kim noticed us come back in, "but it was cut off." She looked excited. Next to her, Eddie was looking at the radio as if he was hoping it'd perform the trick again, and so did everyone else—except Waylon.

"What'd it say?" I asked out loud.

"Mostly static," Shaun said as he shook his head. "Couldn't make out anything they said, and they probably didn't hear anything from us, either."

"But we do know which direction it came from," Stone added. "Whoever sent it is just out of our range up north. We need to head in that direction."

_Why'd they put the old man out to pasture again?_ Still, this was damn good news. Whoever those people were, they had to have a better set up than the pitiful crap we'd thrown together. However, that meant heading north, where we might run into those bastards in blue again. If the reward was getting free of these idiots (I'm sure there was some ground commander out there who would snag us away from the unit when they saw us), then it seemed worth it in my book.

"So, when do we leave?" I popped the question that apparently was on everyone's minds, as everyone looked up at Waylon after I said it. _Fucking mindless sheep, following that bastard._ Waylon seemed annoyed of it all, though. He had to answer because he was the leader, and that's what he'd wanted, wasn't it?

"Brotha man, it's late, why don't we all sleep first." He turned and walked away, ending the discussion abruptly. Everyone looked disappointed, to say the least. Who said we had to follow him, anyway? Why not just head out and look for those guys ourselves? Ah right, the food. I snorted. _Goddamn bribery._

"Hey, look on the bright side," Sarah whispered. "Once we link up with some other forces, we'll be free of that asshole." She must have thought what I was thinking; you heard a lot in military newspapers that the ground branches wanted helicopters transferred out of Air Force control and to theirs. And, even if that failed, the guys up north had to be the 'professional half' of the military; surely they'd see Waylon for the sack of crap he was and relieve him of his command.

"Yeah, but it'll seem like forever to get there. I don't like waiting. Besides, we'll still be under someone, and I never got into that."

"Neither do I—ironic that we joined the military, huh?" Sarah commented.

"You signed up for the same reason I did: to blow shit up." There were a lot of other reasons... but that one made us sound the strongest.

"That can't be the only reason you both signed up, right?" I spun around when I realized Kim had overheard us. She was looking at the two of us, mostly at Sarah, with something that looked like concern. I scowled.

"Isn't really any of your business, but yeah; we never wanted to go to college or become commanders or anything else. Blowing up shit for a living is fine. People have been doing it for hundreds of years." Sarah nodded, agreeing with me. Kim was surprised. It was obvious that she only knew the 'nice' Sarah whenever they hang out together; when Sarah was with me she was the 'serious' Sarah, who might as well have been from another planet entirely.

"It's not all about fighting you know," she reminded us. "What about the oath to protect others? And the point about maintaining peace?"

"We do, by brute force against the enemy." I shrugged again.

"That's not really nice, you know," she said as she crossed her arms. Nice? Who was she, my mother? She piloted a fighter jet, for fuck's sake! Those things could shoot down transport planes with hundreds of troops in them, and a lot more than some helicopters could get in one combat op.

"We never question you or your motives," Sarah said as she tried to defuse the situation. Normally I was calm, although I did have a short fuse. Being questioned about my life choices by someone who still didn't act like they should've winds me up pretty good. "And don't question us about ours. Everyone has their reasons and motivations." Kim looked at her, and then some sort of silent communication passed between the two of them. She nodded and walked away.

"She's nice, but she has her faults." I wasn't sure if Sarah was defending her or explaining it to me—probably both, not that I cared.

"Sheesh, she's acting like we're the only aggressive fighters in the Air Force." I looked around at the others. "I don't think half these assholes even care about what happened to the general population, but they sure seemed worried about their planes."

"I do wonder sometimes," Sarah admitted. "Don't you?" I scratched my head. I believed in survival of the fittest, but this was an odd situation. Usually, it picked off the really weak people. This situation had picked off a hell of a lot of people regardless of their strength. It would've taken an odd type of person to get through this. And the rest? Well, what could I do about them?

"Sure, but no point crying over what's done. They died, we lived. Life goes on."

"I wonder if that's really a good saying to live on," she said. I raised an eye brow. Was Sarah wondering about the dark part of our lives? It was uncomfortable, but believable in a sense. Wondering about our life choices all of a sudden? It was worrying, and it made no sense.

"What's with you? You're acting completely weird." Sarah was never been known for being sympathetic or something like it before. Even if things were really different now, it was weird. "Hanging around with that kid must've done something to your head."

"She sure as hell isn't a kid," Sarah made a looping motion around her own chest, "but she is too nice for her own good. Maybe it did rub off on me." She shrugged. "You're acting weird, too." That last bit caught me off guard.

"How am I acting weird?"

"You haven't threatened to break someone's jaw in two weeks. And this is probably the only time you've wondered about someone other than us." I scratched the back of my head when I realized she had a point. I could argue that I was saving my strength and that I was worrying about humanity rather than all the people who were lost... but it didn't sound right even in my head.

"That concussion I got must have something to do with it," I shrugged, "and the sooner we're somewhere sane, the better for us." That wouldn't take much longer, hopefully.

X James X

"This tastes weird," Sam confessed while chewing the piping hot cheeseburger reluctantly as he got out of the chow line. Even though a hotdog sandwich was the best thing I'd eaten for a while (complete with ketchup, mustard spread, and shredded cheese on top, something I hadn't seen since the meteors), I reluctantly agreed with him. Apparently, the Battalion cook heard Sam as well, but didn't comment; I guess he knew what was going on his mind as well as mine. As bad as it sounded, the raiders had stolen too many supplies for us to carry them all. The Battalion's small support company could not manage to carry all of it, even after repairing and pressing into our service four trucks the raiders had left behind and packing their utility trucks to the brim with supplies. Nets and boxes filled with stuff had been tied down on top of the tanks. Mechanized infantrymen volunteered to ride on top of their APCs to free up the space inside for cargo. Members of the provisional infantry company also volunteered to help carry as much as thirty extra pounds of weapons and ammo on top of their own gear each. And even if our company volunteered to take all the remaining stockpiles of medicine, we could only carry four-fifths of the supplies we had found.

_How many lives did all of this cost?_ That thought was foremost on my mind. Unwilling to waste food or allow the raiders to come and retrieve some of it for their use, the Battalion stayed for a while to clean up the rest of the supplies. Everyone was invited to fill their stomachs with the remaining food while the weapons, mostly civilian grade, were disassembled and burned to prevent them from being used again. It was a weird way to protect people.

"How much of this stuff do you think we'll keep?" Sam wondered.

"Isn't ours 'cause it wasn't theirs to begin with," Sergeant Anderson answered, and he seemed to have no qualms with the bag of chips he was eating (he had already finished off two). "We'll be giving at least half of it back." Some basic instinct of mine kept saying that was a bad idea, but part of me only saw it as right. We were supposed to serve, after all.

_The Soldier's Creed: Others before yourself._

In the end, we couldn't eat everything, even if most of our guys had come for second and even third servings, our group included. _We really were that hungry._ We crammed what we could in a few extra spots, but there was still at least a truck's worth of food that we had to destroy in case the raiders returned. I tried not to think about how many people it could've fed. After that, we headed back to the village.

I had been anticipating our return to the village the entire day. I'd taken a small look at the civilian camp before we left, and they all looked eager to get moving. The path back was a familiar one once we were back in the twilight. I felt a strong sense of déjà vu as we again went over the bridge we had so desperately defended just a few days ago. We stopped closer to the city this time, so I was able to catch a glimpse of things. Nothing higher than three stories was standing, and from here it looked like just another ruined city. I was surprised.

_People can survive there? Well, at least they won't have any more problems with raiders now that they're gone._

Regardless of our victory, we still had to take precautions. Vehicles were sent into wide patrols around the perimeter, and the infantry, including ourselves, were posted together with the vehicles. Captain Brenner had gone into the city with some of his staff, the civilians, and the vehicles carrying at least half of the supplies. All we could do now is to wait.

"So, what happens after this?" Sam wondered. Hadn't he asked this before? I shifted and leaned against the Abram we were guarding. Its crew was sitting on top, enjoying some cooked food for a change.

"We just go on our travels and help those we find," Anson answered him. "Things will develop from there." Sam looked glum. I found it ironic—Sam had probably never met a Lazurian and he wanted to fight them. The sergeants had fought them at least a hundred times before and they didn't want to do it again. I was happy doing what we were doing, at least.

"I wonder how they'll all fare here…" I glanced towards the settlement.

"They got permanent shelter," Peter said thoughtfully, "and as long as they can keep food coming in they could survive." How would they get food? Was farming still possible? Could you still raise animals for food? School taught you that the sun was the source of all life on Earth, and if that were gone, everyone on Earth would be in big trouble. We couldn't stay here, either; there were a lot of places we'd have to search.

"I really hope we ain't leaving these people to die here," I said uneasily.

"Hell, looks like we won't be leaving them at all!" We looked up at the tank gunner, who was looking towards the road to the city; we hadn't set up camp yet because we expected to leave soon. Even from here we could see the large mass that had left us a while ago start returning. What was going on? Had the village been massacred while we were gone? I swallowed hard. No, the supply trucks were empty now.

"Let's find out what the hell is going on," Anderson started back towards the camp. Getting an explanation seemed a difficult task as Captain Brenner seemed absolutely angry, far from the caring man we'd since known him to be. He'd gone right through the gathering crowd and into the lone command tent that had been set up, followed shortly by some of his staff. The men who had been escorting him were bombarded with the question: 'What had happened?' One wasted no time in responding.

"Those fuckers sold us out." He threw his hands up in the air. "They said they'd take the civilians if we took care of the raiders and gave them supplies. Now they're singing a different tune: 'Thank you, but we haven't decided yet, come back later.'" He said the whole statement in a stuck-up voice. "That ain't cool, man." His voice faltered. "My friend died at that camp." He put his face in his hands. The sight was truly saddening, and a couple of people moved forward to comfort him.

Upon hearing what happened, I felt a wave of confusion and anger. We'd helped them! How the hell could they do that! How could they turn away innocent people?

"That's bullshit," I said angrily, "we should be helping each other!" Peter was looking at the civilians with pity in his eyes while Sam was staring at the city with an indistinguishable expression.

"I agree, Coleman, but hold your tongue, got it?" Anderson didn't seem to be all that angry about it, but I felt something else. Disappointment, perhaps? "Nothing we can do if they won't cooperate."

"Yes sir," I said reluctantly. Bastards, I thought. We were giving up just like that? We weren't going try and convince them? What had the world come to?

Whatever it had come to, it wasn't something we were going to try and change. Captain Brenner told us as much when he finally came out of the tent looking more composed and delivered a speech to those gathered. He explained it off as a minor setback but didn't blame the people in the city for turning us away, either. Perhaps sensing some animosity in the air towards the people in the city, he took time to remind us that the raiders were gone now, and they couldn't terrorize anyone; it hadn't been a mistake.

It calmed me down, a little. When he started talking about continuing to help people, I wasn't happy, but I was relaxed at least.

"We will continue to do what we do, because there are more people out there. We will search every city and every town. We will not let defeat of any kind stop us. Is that understood?" The affirmative response we all gave probably could've been heard all the way in the city. Whoever those people were, I wondered what they were thinking now?

We began to move out more or less within our intended schedule, just with more people than we originally intended. Captain Brenner had apparently planned a route that took us through most of the major towns or cities in the region, and there was another one just a few miles north-east of us. Holding on to the top of a tank for dear life again, we set off.

We traveled for well over an hour, passing over wasteland as our transports went over the interstate. This region mostly was countryside, and it reminded me of home... I had to shake my head to get my mind straight. _Can't worry about that, so worry about this._ And so I did, tensing up when the massive convoy finally began to slow down. The Abram rolled to a stop and the diesel engine sputtered and died.

"All right, everyone off! You know the drill!" The tank commander called. Armored and mechanized forces were extremely powerful, but they had one flaw: fuel. Budget analysis had revealed an entire armored brigade spent nearly $30,000 worth of fuel for every mile it travelled, not that it mattered now. And they always had to stop to refuel, which left them vulnerable.

The five of us took position on the side of the road and went prone, looking out over the empty, bleak landscape that stretched for miles. No trees, no hills, no plants. If Nature had been in control, it wouldn't have looked so bland. Nothing seemed to rule the environment now. Behind us, fuel trucks and soldiers carrying fuel cans were walking up and down the column. At most, it would take thirty minutes.

"Plenty of time..." I heard Sam mutter beside me. He still had that mood from earlier. In fact, despite Captain Brenner's speech, you could sense frustration throughout the Battalion. We had a goal, we knew we were doing something good, but that incident at the village made it clear it could easily be a thankless job. I could relate to that, but all we could do was to move forward—unless we wanted to descend to the level of the raiders.

At least we hadn't run out of gas. That was the one item we had plenty after recovering it from the raiders. We could still move, and that was important. We travelled across the countryside for several more hours before we reached our next destination.

The tank pulled to a stop on the side of the highway, just a few miles before an off ramp and next to a lake. Across the lake we could see another city. My spirits rose slightly when I saw that all the buildings in it appeared to be standing. It looked like it had been in good shape. I wasn't the only one who looked hopeful.

"We might finally find somebody." Peter smiled.

"We can barely feed ourselves," Sam reminded us coldly. He was still furious about the fact that we gave up our supplies for nothing in return.

"Remember your oath, civilians first," Anson told him. The armored companies remained at their places, while the mechanized infantry companies began forming a security perimeter around the city. The rest of the infantry traveling with the Battalion—the Marines, us, and the provisional infantry company—were called to the front of the convoy. Captain Brenner was standing atop one of the Abrams, waiting for everyone to gather.

"Okay, I know it's been a rough few days, but remember—"

"Where there's life, there's hope," half the crowd replied, surprising me. I hadn't heard that yet. Was it one of his special speeches? 'Where there's life, there's hope…' It did sound reassuring.

"Exactly," Captain Brenner smiled. "Now, this town looks relatively undamaged. In fact, it is the most normal-looking thing we've seen recently. There may still be people here, so I'm sending you all in to try and make contact. We'll leave the vehicles here to avoid scaring people. I want everyone to move slow and easy. We don't want to make these people fear us."

We spent ten minutes figuring things out: what squads would enter where, where they would meet up, and so on. Twenty minutes later, the selected groups moved off the interstate and into the city. While the others were sent to check on the city's commercial area, we were sent to check a residential area near the city's main road.

I was very hopeful; all the cities we had seen thus far had been destroyed, decayed, and littered with the corpses of the unfortunate. This one was different, pretty much the exact opposite: many of the buildings were still standing. Instead of rubble-filled lots, places where a building once stood were cleaned up. A few of them even had what looked like recently planted gardens in them. The houses had boards placed over any broken windows. Only people could've done this.

"Take it slow boys; we don't want to scare anyone," Anderson repeated. I found it a bit funny this was coming from a burly-looking man carrying a huge machine gun, but I didn't say anything. Despite the seemingly warm atmosphere, there was not a soul to be seen as we walked down the residential street. I was tempted to go up to one of the houses and knock on the door, but who would answer?

_Damn raiders. People around here are probably scared at the sight of anyone who's armed now. That isn't right._ We were supposed to be seen as heroes.

"This place actually looks normal if you ignore the sky," Sam commented, pulling at the straps holding the radio to his back uncomfortably.

"I hope it stays normal, it's comforting to see things like they used to be," Peter replied. I felt a pang of sadness again. No matter how much it resembled anything normal, this wasn't a normal town, and likely would never be, at least not in my lifetime anyway. We noticed movement down the street at a corner gas station—I brought my rifle up a little higher. When I found out that they were our own guys, I let my grip loosen.

"Holy shit, there's a lot of diesel here!" The squad commander exclaimed when we walked over. "Not enough for the whole convoy, but it'll help anyway—I think." The men and women in the squad had already spread out and formed a perimeter, intent on defending the valuable resource.

"It's the little things that make a big difference," Anderson agreed. "You keep this area secure, then. We'll keep looking." Refugees were important, but resources were still far too valuable to pass on. We kept walking across the road and onto another residential street.

"You think there are people in those houses?" I asked. They were in the same decent condition as the rest, but somehow they looked uninhabited.

"Why don't we just go up and start knocking on doors?" Sam suggested. While I was more than eager to get into contact with new people, I didn't think that was our best option. My brother agreed with me.

"'Cause it'll scare them, genius. If there aren't any people here, it's because the raiders might have already been through." Peter looked at another house.

"If they don't see us as a threat, they may come out to greet us on their own will," Anson told us. We kept our weapons lowered the entire time, but they were still weapons and people were going to notice.

"I really hope they ain't like the people back at that village." I looked around. This city seemed to be a lot better than theirs—maybe they were more hospitable? We reached the end of the street and arrived at a fork in the road. Anderson looked both ways before leading us left towards where the shops and stores were. This place was so big, but quiet at the same time. Anson's pace slowed as he brought his sniper rifle higher up.

"Something up, Riley?" Anderson immediately snapped to attention and held up his arm for all of us to halt. Sergeant Anson was a sniper, trained to absorb everything from the environment. If he sensed something was wrong, it probably was.

"Someone is here," he said, "at the most a few streets over. They're not ours."

"Any idea who?" Anderson asked.

"I don't know," Sergeant Anson said as he shook his head while scanning the area around us with his rifle. "We should investigate and send a report back." We kept walking, a little more alert and on edge. We continued walking until we reached a long boulevard that ran for a mile in each direction—I felt a little exposed just standing there. Sergeant Anderson apparently felt the same as he motioned for us to move towards a grocery store across the street.

"Might be something of interest," he said. We were supposed to keep looking for supplies, and it was a chance to get into some safe cover. Gunfire, unusually loud, suddenly filled the air. Instinct kicked in and we all ducked for the nearest cover of the abandoned cars in the parking lot.

"Dude, what the fuck is that?" Sam peeked out from behind an old pick up. More gunfire, likely return fire, joined the racket. There were at least two groups out there, both armed. Was it our guys?

"Might be more bandits, get over here, Garcia!" Anderson growled at Sam. Anderson grabbed the radio to ask what was happening. I carefully leaned at the car to look at the other side of the street for any signs of life. The firing seemed to be coming from the direction of the streets we'd passed by. "Battalion just confirmed. We got raiders, ladies; stay sharp!" Anderson commanded. Raiders? How? We'd wiped them out! Or worse, we'd failed to completely wipe them out.

"They managed to recover some of their heavy equipment, so be careful. Heavy elements are moving in from the opposite side of the city, but they got infantry already here. Our own forces are mobilizing, but we're holding them back till they get here." We darted across the street into the large parking lot of one of the stores. Fearing a sniper bullet, we moved quickly while hugging the ground. We moved through one of the side lots and into an alley way. We vaulted over a fence into a back yard. The gunfire was a lot closer now, although I noted a difference in the sound of the gunfire. Some seemed to be coming from low-caliber weapons, probably handguns, while the rest was definitely military. Were the raiders out of heavier weapons, or were the people they were fighting under-equipped?

"Remember, there may be civilians," Anson warned has we approached the gate that led beside the house. Anderson kicked it open and we advanced into the street.

"Look!" Peter pointed down the street. I followed his finger and swore inwardly. The gunfire was coming from this street. There, parked sideways in the middle of the street, was a cop car, its tires, headlights, and body being shredded by automatic weapons fire. One officer was leaning on the car, bleeding. His buddy was taking cover. Their guns were no match for military firepower.

"Riley, take out the raiders down the street! You three help those officers!" As Anderson said this he was already moving to a position to lay down some suppressing fire for us to move up. We nodded and quickly ran for the police car once he fired, forcing the raiders to dive for cover. I dived down and took cover behind the tire. The surviving officer looked at us in amazement.

"We got this, fall back!" I told him. I leaned over the hood to try and find the raiders. I could see some of them taking cover behind the cars parked on both sides of the street. They were definitely raiders, but they looked better than the usual rabble. Peter carried the wounded cop away while Sam and I started firing down the street. Anderson found a new spot on a porch and sent a deadly rain of fire at the raiders from an angle. The civilian cars offered little protection and the bullets punched through both them and the raiders. Others stumbled out of cover. I squeezed the trigger and watched as one of the raiders' head exploded and his body collapsed onto the street—one down. The last raider made a run down the sidewalk. Heavy machine gun fire followed him, the bullets shattering cars till it caught up and cut him down.

"Can't hide from this, you little fucker!" Anderson called. I moved my sights back and forth. Was that all of them? I cautiously retreated to where Peter was helping the officer treat his buddy; Sam followed behind me and both sergeants started heading towards us as well. I started hearing a few outbreaks of fire around the city as more elements of both sides made contact with the other.

"He okay?" I looked at the cop. He had a bullet wound below his throat.

"Should be, the bullet went right through." Peter pulled a bandage from his kit.

"Who are you people?" The other police officer eyed our uniforms and rifles.

"Rubinelle Army, we've been trying to rout the raiders from the region." I offered my hand. He shook it.

"12th Battalion?" He asked hopefully. I was a briefly stunned; how had he known?

"Yeah…" I said uncertainly. The officer grabbed his radio excitedly. I turned to see Sam reporting (albeit sloppily) the encounter. Anderson and Anson were already running up, and they took the transceiver out of Sam's hands.

"It's the 12th Battalion, Brenner's Wolves!" The officer was calling into his radio. Peter glanced at me and then at the officer with a confused expression. I shrugged. Both sergeants noticed, but didn't comment. Once he was done reporting everything that happened over the radio, he turned to us.

"Hey, listen; there are tanks near the school. We couldn't get close. Can you handle that?" The officer asked hopefully.

"School, as in kids?" All of us asked at the same time. He nodded gravely. Those bastards!

_Should've killed all of them when we had the chance._

"Get your gear, boys; we're moving now!" Anderson was running as soon as the officer pointed us in the right direction. I took off after him, along with Anson and Sam. Peter did the last touches on the bandages and nodded at the officer.

"We'll save them. Stay here, keep him safe, and wait for our guys to come up," was what I heard him say. There were other people here, and right now they were in danger. After running across two streets, I could definitely hear the distinctive rumble of heavy armor above the exchanges of gunfire. They must've been all over the city, and so were our guys. Two Humvees skidded to a stop in the intersection ahead of us—they were raiders, judging by the paint scheme. The gunners turned their sights on us, forcing us to scramble for cover. I dived behind an old oak tree on the side of the road. Car alarms went off in an ear-splittingly painful chorus. Across the street, the radio came on, and I was able to pick up some of what it said.

"All combat units—" it was the Captain Brenner's voice—"the raiders are inside the town and on the outer perimeter. We need to push them back. All units, advance to the eastern side of the city where they entered. Engage all enemy forces on sight, but be advised: there are friendly forces operating in the same area." The line went dead. They were probably trying to organize a plan. In the meantime, we'd have to move up on our own. This was made very difficult by the large amount of .50 caliber bullets that were about the knock the tree down. Staying here was not an option; I rolled out of cover and behind a car, where Anderson was.

"Ideas, sir?" I asked hopefully, covering my head as sparks flew. He motioned at me to stay low.

"Wait for them to reload and lay it on!" He called over to the others. I switched the firing selector again and waited. Before the belts ran out, both the gunners were killed by small-arms fire from behind. Their offensive use being terminated, the raider Humvees quick sped away down another street. We cautiously advanced up to the intersection and ran into another group of armed civilians. Militia was a more proper term actually, seeing as they were armed with weapons ranging from handguns to hunting rifles. They raised their weapons at us, of course.

"12th Battalion?" One asked. He didn't even look fifteen yet, but he held a handgun like he knew how to use it, and his eyes were hard. All of them had the same rough look as the raiders had, but they had a different air around them. The raiders radiated nothing but aggression and violence. These people had a defensive look on them.

"You got it, we were asked to help. Where's the school?" Anderson didn't seem bothered by their weapons. "We'll see what we can do about those tanks." For a wonder, they accepted our explanation without question.

"We're heading that way now. Follow us." They took off down the same street where the Humvees disappeared.

"Looks like these people can take care of themselves." Sam watched the retreating militia members. We all jogged after them.

"Yeah, but remember, we're supposed to be better," Anderson said. The radio came to life again as Captain Brenner laid out a plan. Considering the fact that things had changed so quickly, he was very adept for a commander.

"Wolf Pack-Six to all units: most of the raiders have entered the city. All units within the perimeter: push them towards the western edge of the city. Tank companies A & B are in standby. We'll crush them between both forces. We will not make the same mistake twice." There was no missing the finality in that statement; we were going to wipe them out. It was the type of plan I agreed.

"All right, that's our job, let's hurry up!" Anderson ordered. Together with the local militia, we charged on towards the school.


	9. New Allies II

Note: Chapter has been revised and reposted as of November 2014

X James X

We kept an even pace with the militia forces. It was clear they were nowhere as fit, as organized, or as well-armed as a professional unit, but they had spirit. That spirit had gotten them this far, but how long could spirit last? War was ugly, and sometimes you relied on your tools more than yourself.

"How many non-combatants are in the school?" Anderson called.

"About thirty kids, plus some adults. We've been using it as some sort of a community center," their leader explained. "We keep a few guns there, so some people are probably fighting back already."

"Any idea on the equipment the raiders got?" Anderson was trying to gather some intel. I listened closely. Just what had they escaped with?

"Bikes and jeeps mostly. We think they got a tank. Some artillery leveled a building a week ago, but we haven't heard it again." The militia leader was counting off his fingers. A week ago? So that was an old assessment; they might be weaker now. But even if they didn't have much, they still had vehicles. To those like us without anti-vehicle weapons, they might as well have more tanks. I kept my eyes on the surroundings so much I didn't have an exact number on the number of streets we passed. Eventually, we turned down one and there was the school.

It was a large, two-story brick building situated between a few houses, and it was clearly meant to be within walking distance for its students. Situated in the streets in front of it were three Humvees and two bikes, their machine guns firing mercilessly on the building. Several over soldiers had deployed around the vehicles for extra fire, and there were over ten in total. Oddly, they hadn't chosen to post a rear guard of some sort. Sporadic fire came back at them from the school, but missed.

"Advance on the side of the street. Keep low and use the cars for cover, don't fire till your close," Anderson breathed. Sensing his capabilities as a leader, the militia decided to follow his orders. Anson took position behind a car to fire from afar while the rest of us slinked along the left side of the street. The militia went along the right side. I moved stealthily with the ease of constant training, dashing bravely between gaps till we were right behind the bastards. They still didn't notice us. Anderson propped his gun on a hood and the three of us reached for grenades. "I got that bike," Sam volunteered.

"I got the third Humvee." Anderson took aim.

"We'll take the other Humvee." Peter and I nodded. Anderson counted down his fingers, and at three we gave them hell. Sam managed to land his grenade in the sidecar, killing the driver and gunner immediately. The heavy bullets of Anderson's gun killed the gunner and ripped three other soldiers to shreds. Our grenades managed to land in the middle of a group of fanned-out soldiers behind the second Humvee. They didn't have time to react before the grenades detonated, killing all of them and tossing their bodies like some kid's ragdolls. The gunner spun around in surprise, only for a sniper round to obliterate the top of entire head. The militia emerged on the other side of the street and opened fire at the remaining Humvee and bike, catching any remaining raiders between three directions of fire. In less than thirty seconds it was over.

Silence overtook the immediate area, and we hung back for just a second to make sure no other raiders were around. Once Anson caught up, we moved forward. We all quickly rushed towards the school's front entrance. The set of metal doors were flung open to reveal two more members of the militia. They quickly waved us in and padlocked the doors back shut.

"Damage report!" Anderson barked at the bewildered civilians. Only when the band that had come with us nodded did they answer.

"Upper floor is destroyed, but all the kids are hiding in a class room," he said, "and an artillery shell landed earlier, took out D Hall."

"Any wounded?" Peter demanded. The militiaman shook his head.

"Only dead." I gritted my teeth again in anger.

"Wolf Pack-Six, provisional company, we met up with a band of civilians and helped them defend a school from enemy attack," Sergeant Anderson reported back to HQ.

"Any casualties?" Captain Brenner asked in a worried voice.

"The kids are okay, but some civilian fighters were killed in the skirmish."

"Understood. Check if the civilians can continue defending it for the time being. Make sure the school is secure and then move to reinforce other units. If not, stay there."

"Yes sir. Out." Sergeant Anderson turned to the two militiamen who'd let us in. "How many other fighters are here?"

"Twenty of us."

"We're staying here," the leader of the band who had come with us said, "and you can go. We'll make sure this building stays safe. It'll be over quickly if you five just go." Sergeant Anderson and the man stared at each other for a minute. If we left now, we could push the raiders further away from the school. But if some were still hiding around here and attacked once we left...

"All right." It was a tough call, but Sergeant Anderson made it. "Spread out and make sure you got a stable perimeter. Be careful who your guys shoot, 'cause we got some of our guys coming into the city. Got it?" The leader nodded. "Okay." Anderson turned his attention to us. "Let's go, boys; we still got work to do!"

We emerged through the front doors and dashed across the schoolyard to the street. "Now, where to?" Anderson asked out loud. We took a pause to listen to the sounds of combat still echoing throughout the city. It only sounded like gunfire really; their stock of vehicles must've been depleted. We moved across two streets, trying to locate a firefight. We found ourselves towards another main road, lined with shops on each side. Several burning wrecks were in the middle of the road while gunfire was flying from each side. Which side was ours?

A motorbike came speeding down the road, only for fire across the street to focus on it and tear it to shreds. That had to be us; we knew the raiders used bikes and that we didn't. "Hurry up!" Anderson called. We took off in a run across the street for a flower shop whose front windows had been entirely destroyed. Gunfire behind us, as well as in front of us, whizzed right past our heads. We practically flung ourselves through the windows.

"Our own guys!" Sam complained, leaning out with his rifle.

"They can't tell the difference," Anderson reminded him. I felt that uncomfortable feeling again at the confusion always present in battle. Could I be sure I wouldn't make the same mistake? These raiders looked a lot more like our own guys. I joined Sam at the left window while Sgt. Anson and Anderson set up on the right.

"Think I see some over there," Sam pointed out with the barrel of his gun towards an old and abandoned gas station. The boards that covered the windows had been torn down in places. I looked down my sights and aimed while keeping an ear on the exchanges of gunfire around me. A head poked out from the window; I could tell it was a raider because his helmet had rather crude symbol scratched into it. I opened fire and Sam followed suit, and we sprayed the area with suppressing fire before ducking down to reload, unsure if we'd hit him. "I can't believe we're fighting in a fucking flower shop," he muttered, kicking at an empty pot.

"In urban warfare, you always seek shelter," Anson told him, squeezing off another shot from his rifle at a bank's parking lot across the street. We took aim at the gas station again, but after a few seconds we were forced to change our positions because of fire coming at us. Several of the raiders had hidden in the bank itself, using its small, steel bar-reinforced windows as sniping holes. I aimed my shots carefully at one of the windows and squeezed off a round when one popped his head up. It exploded in a mist of blood. Satisfied, I turned and glanced at the gas station. Still, nothing. That bastard was dead.

"Aren't we supposed to push them out of the town?" Sam ducked to reload again.

"These guys are dug in, no other option but to kill them," Anderson answered. I fired at another window and ducked again. They had a better defensive position than us. The radio was becoming alive with chatter by this point.

"One enemy tank down."

"Bandits are dug in around the church."

"Can we get some artillery over here?"

We clearly weren't the only ones in a tight position. A few moments passed before the Captain Brenner's voice came over the radio.

"Wolf Pack-Six to all units, we have permission to fire artillery into the non-housing areas of the city." Permission? Permission from who? I looked up and down the street. I sure didn't see any houses, though there were definitely some behind the bank. Sure enough, artillery fire started coming down, precise and controlled. The first shell went right through the roof of the bank, busting through any defense the structure had. We watched as smoke billowed out of the small windows. Slowly, but with deadly accuracy, shells landed along the other side of the road, destroying all of the businesses and parking lots the raiders were using as cover. Once the horrible barrage ended, we exited the shelter of the flower shop. Down the street other 12th Battalion soldiers emerged from their cover and exchanged glances. A lone raider stumbled out of one of the buildings. As soon as he looked up and moved his gun, a hail of bullets hit him.

"Any idea where else they're dug in?" Anderson called down to another group. They shook their heads. A light tank, one of the few modern M2s the Battalion had, turned down the street and steadily rumbled towards us—it was one of ours. It passed and we all fell into a jog beside it along with the other soldiers present. The armor went where the enemy was.

"Is it over?" Sam wondered. I wouldn't be surprised; all it had been the past few days were quick, spread out, and deadly exchanges rather than a regular battle between two conventional forces. A lone rocket was fired from a bail bonds office, striking the tank in the front. Undamaged by the attack, it returned fire with its cannon and obliterated the whole building. A group broke off to search for more raiders. The sound of gunfire was becoming more sporadic with each passing moment. They couldn't have much more left.

We walked beside the tank for much of the road, keeping a close eye on the surrounding buildings for any sign of the enemy. The sound of gunfire was dying off even more around here, though the radio said otherwise.

"Confirmed kill on tank."

"There's a whole platoon of them hiding somewhere."

"The enemy is digging in inside the town," another reported. I guess the raiders found out they were being led to slaughter. There goes the element of surprise.

The tank turned down another street, past a gate, and into another housing division. This place looked well kept. The raiders would definitely come here if they wanted expensive stuff.

"Come out, come out," another soldier taunted. Some of the houses showed visible signs of looting. I growled and gripped my rifle harder. How could they go on tormenting innocent people? Even in the midst of battle they were looting—

The ambush was sudden and deadly. I don't even remember hearing it. One moment I was beside the tank, the next I was on my back on the side of the street behind a garbage can. I dragged myself up groggily.

"Guys!" The others—were the others okay? I looked out to see the tank in flames and heard gunfire raining down from two second-story windows and a balcony. Other soldiers were stumbling for cover No one was hurt, but the tank crew was certainly dead. There was little cover here, either. We got a break when they retreated to reload. We all took this opportunity to return fire at the windows and chuck a few grenades. The explosions tore them to shreds; one bastard's corpse even cart wheeled out a window and into the ground.

Sam panted and jogged up to where I was, Anderson behind him. I could see Sgt. Anson standing a little further away. We'd been scattered, but we lived. The remaining infantry were unhurt as well, thanks to the raiders' horrible aim. We all silently nodded at each other and fell in as other groups continued clearing the area. The sounds of combat were gradually fading.

We continued along the street and around a curve to see a Humvee parked haphazardly on the curb, with the driver's door ajar. Above the usual combat calls, Captain Brenner's voice came over the radio.

"Wolf Pack-Six to all units, we've confirmed the raiders are in full retreat. Stragglers may still be in the city. All infantry units are to secure the city while the tank companies are to run down any remaining enemy units outside the city. Out."

"The engine's still runnin'; one of those little bastards is around here." A soldier spit on the ground as he leaned out from the Humvee. We all fanned out towards the surrounding houses to search for the little coward. I moved over to an old sedan and peered through the windows into the back seat. Nothing. I opened the door and popped the trunk—it was a stupid thing to do, really, but a veteran had told us he'd done this trick in the last Great War while fighting insurgents. It was empty this time. I shut it and stared at the houses on each side of the street. Maybe they were in there? There was a crash and a scream. I turned around to see a trashcan rolling down the street before banging into a car. A body fell out, holding its head.

"Found him!" Another soldier called. We all aimed at the prisoner. He stood up and started babbling something I couldn't understand. He was lacking a full combat uniform; in fact, he was just in his underwear! Had be abandoned it in the hope we wouldn't notice? "Hands up and shut up!" The soldier growled. The raider was sweating and shaking wildly as he raised his hands above his head. A wet patch started spreading across his underwear and down his leg. This only drew cruel laughs from some of the other soldiers. Poor bastard was starving and scared shitless. Since he was a deserter, he would likely be dead this time tomorrow.

"Hey boys, come look at this!" Another soldier was looking in the back of the Humvee. "Food, ammo, and gas!" He pulled out a canister of gas and shook it, confirming it was full. "She's ours to use now!" Even if it shouldn't have had to be fought twice in different places, the battle against the raiders had turned out well.

Two hours later, tired and worn out, we all trekked back towards the camp that had been set up next to the highway. The battle had only just ended. Once the raiders had gotten more than five miles away, we broke off our pursuit. Their casualties? Heavy. Along with the militia, the entire battalion cleared the town of stragglers, capturing a few and killing a few hold outs. When the town was finally cleared, we'd been allowed to return to camp.

"That was boring," Sam yawned. Our group hadn't found anything during our sweep. "We ain't trained for counter-insurgency," Sam complained.

"We're trained for insurgency, Private. They're the same thing," Sergeant Anderson told him.

"Bah, it still ain't our thing." Sam yawned again.

"How the hell did a whiner like him make it into a special purpose brigade?" A grunt behind us called.

"I ain't sure myself." Anderson laughed. Sam grumbled something under his breath.

"Man, I'm just wondering why we're killing our own people." Sam shrugged.

"Sergeant, permission to help at the medical station?" Peter asked as we entered the camp.

"Go ahead, Private." Anderson let him go and the rest of us kept on our way. It didn't take me long to notice that something seemed different: it was louder and a lot more packed. The reason soon became clear to me.

"Civilians?" It was. A few hundred people of various ages had gathered here at the camp, trying to stay out of the way.

"They must've evacuated the town while we were clearing it," Sergeant Anson realized, "and they'll probably move back in soon."

"Huh." I was surprised there had been so many living people still there; there were more people in this one city than the Battalion had rescued from several different cities. And it wasn't just the young and strong: there were older people, pregnant women, and small children who all looked perfectly healthy and happy. I found myself smiling as I looked. _This is my reason for doing this—right here._

We headed to our own section of the camp and waited for further news. Since the city was in good condition, we might stay a while—I wouldn't mind that. Sure enough, a gathering for all 12th Battalion personnel was announced later in the day. We all gathered around the tank Captain Brenner was standing on. Peter joined us not too long after we arrived.

"Casualties were light—both we and the civilians," Peter began," but some of our people were killed." We all hung our heads at that. After a few minutes, the civilians started forming around too, sometimes milling among the crowd of soldiers. This must concern both our groups, then. Something that caught everyone's attention was the people at the base of the tank.

Unsurprisingly, the first was the lieutenant, her face in a perpetual frown. Some of the civilians got scared just by looking at her. The other three people were a little odder. Two of them were just kids, though one of them looked like he was wearing a cadet uniform. _An officer in training?_ The other kid was leaning on his shoulder, some girl with dyed hair. Why were they up there? The last man was about as bulky as Captain Brenner, with white hair and a lab coat. Was he the civilians' leader or something?

Atop the Abram, Captain Brenner observed the massive crowd and waved for silence. Everyone became quiet and gathered closer; civilian and soldier mingled together just to get into earshot.

"I would like to call for a brief silence in honor of the twelve men who died here today, and for the civilians who died defending their town." He hung his head, and a solemn silence seemed to cover the entire world just then. When he spoke again, he was directly addressing us soldiers.

"As some of you may have noticed, the entire population of New Wolfington is here." That was kinda ironic: an army battalion called Brenner's Wolves and a town called New Wolfington. "They will be accompanying the battalion from now on." This caused an outbreak of murmuring in our crowd. Sam cursed under his breath.

"How the hell are we gonna feed them _and _ourselves?" A soldier behind me muttered to his companion. He had a point, I knew—but they were civilians. Once the chatter subsided, he continued.

"I understand your worries. Since the disaster, supplies have been scarce, and we have yet to find a permanent home." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I believe those days may be over soon. We believe we may have found a permanent source of food production that won't be hindered by the recent changes. I'll allow the civilian representative to explain." Brenner stepped down from the tank while the wide man in a lab coat stepped in front of it and began talking.

"Hello there!" He said energetically, smiling at the crowd. "My name is Dr. Morris, and I am the elected leader of New Wolfington. I must say, we are happy you've come, we were having trouble with those scoundrels!" They must've elected him for his spirit; there was something about hearing him speak that was reassuring. "Now I do have good news indeed, something I'm sure everyone will _howl _at. Oh ho!"

We were all silent. Maybe it was something else.

"Um, yes." He recovered his composure, and then began to speak. "Located some ways further east is a very special factory. This factory runs on very special components, that—" He launched into a random assortment of scientific jibber jabber that I, nor anyone else for that matter, didn't understand. Everyone exchanged glances. It was only after Captain Brenner cleared his throat that the doctor realized he'd lost the audience. "Oh, sorry. The short version: a factory that can produce unlimited food without any sort of input!" The crowd went into a frenzy of whispering and muttering. I felt my stomach growl again. "And with your help now, I'm sure we can get it running again!" That last part was barely heard.

"A factory that makes food?" Sam's mouth was watering. The knowledge seemed to have temporarily sapped any discipline from both groups. People were whispering, yelling, or cheering excitedly. The _idea_ was certainly appealing, but was it real?

"That's one of the dumbest things I've ever heard off." Anderson didn't sound convinced. The doctor stepped down and Lieutenant Lin stood up next. Her presence immediately silenced the crowd gathered.

"The next few days will likely be rough while we travel toward this factory, and I want you to understand this: we will not tolerate trouble of any kind from either side. We expect the soldiers to be welcoming and we expect the civilians to be cooperative. Understand?" She put it bluntly to the point that it was no longer a question; it was an order. Her words restored order in our ranks and startled the civilians into silence.

"I want everyone to remain positive; this is a very important step in our efforts." The Captain took over again. "It's been a long day, so we'll move out tomorrow. I want patrols set up, all supplies gathered from town, and proper burials for the dead." As the crowd dispersed I watched the civilians. Although scared, they were eager. They were alive. They didn't want to die. They had hope. Watching them restored a little of my hope as well. I hadn't thought about the long run, but now seemed a good time to be upbeat. A permanent food source meant a permanent base to work from, a place where hopefully we could restore human civilization. Maybe, things would go back to normal again in my lifetime. Maybe…


	10. Chapter 9

XX A/N XX

Chapter has been updated as of 2015

X Tim X

The helicopter moved onwards at a steady pace, the blades above whirling and whining against the wind. Every now and then I'd pull on the stick a little to avoid hitting a power line or a rise in the ground. Looking above me, I could see several specs higher in the sky. I wondered if any of them remembered that a helicopter was behind them. We were burning fuel pretty fast as it was, so I didn't bother trying to keep up with them.

"Radar is still clear," Sarah reported. The whole land around was dead, but we still had the radar activated. Who knows, those bastards in blue could be close. The radio was completely silent as well; no one wanted to talk. As we flew on for another couple of miles, the ground gradually changed. The barren landscape soon became soggy, and before we knew it, we seemed to be flying over the ocean, which was nothing but murky brown water. I took off my headset.

"How the fuck did it flood inland this far?" I wondered. We were far from the coast and the map hadn't pointed out a lake. We were actually cutting across the southeast corner of the state of Maris. It was one of the states that bordered the Channel, so the place had a lot of rivers in it, but they'd always been under control.

"You think the Lazurians blew up some dams or canals or something?" Sarah guessed. I briefly thought about it. It would drown any of our own guys in the area and destroy bases and factories, and it would also cause a lot of civilian casualties.

"Possibly, who knows what those bastards are capable of?" I shrugged, although I pondered over the idea. As far as the military were concerned, Sarah and I were warmongers, those who fought for the hell of it. But, even we drew the line with civilians. That must've meant the Lazurians were even more ruthless than us. I glanced up and didn't see the tail of a jet. "Bah!" I said in annoyance. Sarah just shrugged. It was no big deal; we knew exactly where they were heading and had coordinates to the next base. Wordlessly, we both plugged our gear back into the radio. Silence followed.

We flew on for another couple of miles or so, but it seemed like hours. The thing was, in combat, you were eager and time seemed to fly. But we weren't flying in combat to destroy a radar or an arms dump; we were flying to a base that was most likely destroyed and abandoned behind by some stupid little pricks who probably forgot we were here. I found myself scowling again, and for a moment I forgot my surroundings.

"Fuck!" I heard Sarah suddenly swear. She started activating the weapon systems. That brought me back to the situation at hand.

"Trouble?" I tightened my grip on the stick and looked around. Just below us, the water was showing a couple of ripples; something had moved, and fuck if I know what it was.

"Status report?" Stone's voice called to us above the chatter that had erupted after Sarah's outburst.

"Be advised," Sarah warned, "I'm pretty sure I just saw a submarine. There might be a Lazurian battle fleet in the area." A submarine? Here? Wait, the water here was that deep? Holy shit, Sarah was right; submarines were used as scouts sometimes, so it was possible there were more ships out there.

This caused even more fearful chatter over the radio. I started scanning the seemingly endless horizon for any signs of a ship. Warships were very bad news to us. For one, helicopters were armed for buildings and ground targets, not ships. Second, every ship fit to sail had a lot of AAA weapons. We were fucked if we came across a destroyer or a cruiser. F-15s were air superiority fighters, not anti-ship craft, so the others were fucked, too. As if to emphasize that point, the radio suddenly exploded with noise: there was panicked shouting, an explosion, and a cry cut short.

"What the hell is going on? Over!" I called. What the fuck happened now?

"Long range missile attack! We lost two planes!" It was Shaun. "More in—" There was an explosion and his radio went dead. Shit. That submarine must've seen us and sent word back to its buddies to turn on their radar and hit anything in the skies.

"Shaun? SHAUN!" Kim called. Jesus Christ, they were getting butchered and we couldn't even see them. Unwilling to let the same thing happen to me, I lowered our altitude some to avoid being picked up by radar.

"All units, evasive maneuvers. Evacuate the engagement zone." It was not Stone but Waylon who said it. Even if anyone hadn't said it, I would. There was nothing we could do here except bail.

I checked our direction and pulled the right some, towards inland. I wasn't flying anywhere near where those ships might be. So, they had taken AA fire. If it was so far away that they couldn't see the ship, it must've been a cruiser or two. I really fucking hoped there wasn't a carrier somewhere; the last thing we needed were a bunch of planes coming after us. I kept flying in the same direction, half listening to the radio chatter.

Three planes were down, and two had taken heavy damage. Clever bastards had really got us good this time. The murky sea below grew more into a swamp, with treetops poking out from the water. There was panic over the radio as one of the damaged planes spontaneously combusted.

"Radar contact! Saddle up, ladies and gentlemen!" Waylon called. AA fire and planes this far inland? There really was a full-blown war going on!

"Good luck up there guys, we'll try and see if there's anything we can do down here," Sarah radioed.

"Good luck," I muttered. I may not have liked most of them, but that didn't mean I'd rather see them dead. I don't know what the two of us would do if the others got taken out. Plus, they had the food, too.

"Radar contact, I count fourteen small targets," Sarah warned. Ships? The water was shallow here! How the hell... My mind dug up our less important lessons on naval combat.

"Might be landing forces…" I said thoughtfully. Landing craft were trained to work in shallow water. And they didn't normally (emphasis on the last word) have AAA. It was worth checking out. "I'll take her in for a closer look." I pitched forward and sped towards the contacts. It was a landing force—six landers and ten gunboats. That would've been about a few companies of troops in there. Like I thought, they had no AA; they were defenseless. I grinned savagely.

"Sink em!" I called. Without a proper escort, they didn't stand a chance. Rocket and missile fire destroyed the landers and anyone in them. The lightly armored gunboats didn't stand a chance against the helicopter's powerful chain gun. I circled around in satisfaction as we watched the ships burn. Oil spilled out into the water and a few lucky surviving sailors swam over and clung onto the dead trees for dear life. Like that would help them; they would all drown eventually.

"That's for destroying our base!" Sarah taunted. "We confirmed small landing force taken out, enemy casualties around four hundred," Sarah reported. I grinned in satisfaction. This was for real; this was war. From the sound of it, the others weren't losing, but they sure as hell weren't winning either.

"Not much we can do to help them…" I shrugged. At the moment, all we could do was engage other landing forces, and odds were there were more. Ignoring radio communications in the meantime, we flew onwards through the swampy waters for more targets. A distress call came over the radio as one of the pilots was forced to bail out. Our numbers were dwindling fast, but neither Sarah nor I would be among the casualties.

"More contacts up ahead, one is airborne," she warned. Airborne? There must be a Hind or something else providing top cover. As we got closer, the shape revealed it to be a Mil transport helicopter. Below were three more landers; together that was another landing party—and a juicy target, too. "Engaging." Sarah armed the Sidewinder. It sailed out and detonated right in the side of the defenseless transport chopper, causing it to burst into flames and sink into the murky water. The landers tried to evade quickly. One was blown to bits, and the others started sinking after the gun punched several dozen holes in the side. Several unlucky survivors tried to swim away, only to go under.

"Another landing group taken out," I said as I pumped my fist. Something was bugging me though: Why were all these forces landing? There must've been an engagement or a base inland. The radio was still alive with chatter from the others were while they were still in the heat of battle. We were one helicopter and we'd already racked up a decent amount of kills. That should teach those bastards to bomb our country.

"Weapons exhausted, we're pulling out!" Waylon called over the radio joyfully, the dumb prick.

"All aircraft; turn on original course." That was Stone this time. Damn, I was just starting to have fun. I reluctantly checked our coordinates and set off in the general direction of the base we were heading to. We arrived at the base approximately an hour later—and lucky for us we didn't spend more time sinking ships.

"Come on. Ah, fuck!" I swore. The base was within sight, but we'd been running on fumes for a few minutes now since we'd taken a longer route to avoid the enemy. I listened intently to the engines; I was waiting for them to stop and for us to fall from the sky. But, through sheer luck that had thus evaded us in life, we made it. No sooner was I a few inches above the ground that the engine finally died. We landed rather roughly. "Damn it," I swore, pulling my helmet off. I really hope that hadn't damaged the landing gear.

As we climbed out, I jumped down and began examining our bird for any damage. I muttered at a couple of scratches on the underside from what might have been an AK. I'd been a little too cocky last time we made an escape. Helicopters were very delicate; the armor wasn't worth shit in some places, and one cut line or one wrong dent could make the whole thing entirely useless. The bullets hadn't really done any notable damage, though. I bent down to examine the landing gear. No dents, no busted wheels, the steel didn't show any sign of wear. Aside from fuel, she would still fly.

_Nice try, assholes._

"We used maybe half of our chain gun ammo, but we still have plenty of missiles and rockets." Sarah stepped back from the underside gun. Okay, we just needed more fuel and we could still kick some ass.

"We were beginning to worry you'd gone down." We both turned to see Stone walking towards us.

"Not in a million years." I waved my hand in a sloppy salute. "So, is there actually somebody here?"

"That's the confusing part," Stone admitted. "The base is destroyed, but we found some graves out near the runway. Some of the aircraft are gone, as well. The garrison here probably flew out already." Gone? Had they left for the Capital, too? Or somewhere else?

"Where would they go?" Sarah wondered.

"We know where the transmission came from. They probably did, too. The most likely scenario is that they left to find the source." Stone looked up and down the runway where everyone was parked. "Even then, from what we can guess, there is only a few aircraft missing. I estimate there were only three or four people here." Three or four? Was there anyone left in this fucking country? "You mentioned contact with landing forces, correct?" Stone went on.

"Aye, a whole fucking bunch of the bastards," I answered. The fact I'd killed that many people sailed over my head.

"All of them in ships we sunk. Probably killed at least two-hundred of them," Sarah said. Stone seemed to be absorbing this information. "No telling where they were going, but they were on our land and that was reason enough."

"All right, when you're ready, the rest of us will be in the cafeteria of the main building." He walked off.

"Things get worse with every passing day," I complained. "How the hell does everyone die, yet some of the buildings stay up?"

"Yeah, not sure where any survivors go either," Sarah sighed. "The others are probably mourning… we should probably just go there anyway; they all probably took it hard."

While the outside of the building was partly caved in, the inside seemed stable enough. As we both walked down the hall to the cafeteria, we could both hear (to our annoyance) Waylon blabbering away. It was only then that I realized I'd forgotten to ask how many of our guys we'd lost; I hadn't kept a count.

"I had TWO of those chumps on me, but no one, NO ONE, can beat the invincible Waylon, you hear me?" He was standing in front of the doors to the cafeteria, chatting avidly with one of his new cronies. "Well, look who showed up!" Damn, he'd spotted us. "My favorite brother and lady in arms!" He forced his way between us and put his arms around our shoulders. "Now, these are two people who treat those Lazurian chumps like they should!" Waylon was bragging to his crony. Sarah made a disgusted face. Any complement from this ass wasn't worth anything. Soon, I thought. Soon we would hopefully be free from this asshole. "I heard you sunk a few boats back there?"

"Yeah." I growled. Waylon did not appear to notice.

"They don't stand a chance! Once we meet old Greyfield, we'll be VIPs; we'll get anything we want!" He lost me there at that point.

"Who?" I asked.

"Greyfield! Some fat cat in the Capital. I got another transmission right when I was packing the radio up." And yet he hadn't told anyone besides his cronies and us? That was some shitty circle to be in. Sarah growled beside me. "Wants all surviving troops to go to the Capital. Back there was a sample. There's some crazy stuff going on up north. But, think of the possibilities! I could make some good money as a mercenary, and I'm sure you two will be welcomed, too."

"Why would you be a mercenary?" Sarah asked him suspiciously. That was a damn good question; his RAF uniform was the only thing that gave him power.

"'Cause the government's gone; went with the rest of the country. Look," Waylon said as he stepped in front of us, "those chumps—" he motioned into the cafeteria, "they all believe in nobleness and orders, and all that stupid stuff, but we—" he motioned to us, himself, and his crony, "are different, we are fighters! The worlds changed, we can get whatever we want now!" Changed? How much could the world have changed?

"You know a lot more they you're letting on," Sarah said slowly.

"Just tell us what the fuck is going on." I took a step closer to him. Before he could answer, the door behind him opened and Kim stepped out.

"Hey guys…" She probably could sense the hostility in the air. I suddenly realized I didn't want to get into a fight just yet.

"Eh, we just came by to see how you guys were, heard you lost a few people." I scratched the back of my head. Kim smiled slightly and nodded before going back into the cafeteria. We followed. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Waylon was acting like nothing had happened. He knew what had happened… he just wouldn't tell us.

The cafeteria was okay, minus a hole in the roof that showed the dreary red sky above. The surviving pilots all looked pretty miserable. Stone was sitting at a table with his eyes closed. Kim resumed a seat and stared at the ground. And Eddy was there, too—hell, the poor kid looked like he was about to puke! Waylon's other crony was hurt by the losses, unlike the one outside acting like everything was fine and fucking dandy. There was another pilot; I didn't know his name, and he was staring bleakly ahead with wide eyes. After that battle, there were seven fighter pilots left.

"Hey, at least we know Jessie is okay," the crony remarked. "He bailed out, remember?"

"The Lazurians would have no doubt picked him up," Stone said. "Considering the circumstances and the environment, I doubt he would receive good treatment." I had to agree with the old man; it was pretty clear those bastards were capable of anything. I hadn't realized that when we decided to shift all the blame to them.

"We might as well write him off as dead," Waylon walked into the room, "and we should use this as a rallying cry!" Apparently, he was unaware of the hateful glances being sent at him. "We need to teach them a lesson!"

"Even if there are any arms or fuel here, we lack sufficient manpower to do anything," Stone replied sharply. Glad to see the Old Man was pissed, too.

"Let's just fucking ignore the bastards and get to the Capital and this fat fuck in charge, whatever his name was," I interrupted. Might as well take a chance to inform the others of what their 'leader' had learned. They all looked up in surprise. _Fucking mindless sheep._

"Fat...?" Kim asked.

"The Captain—" Sarah seemed to be trying to keep her disgust out of her voice, "got another transmission."

"Oh, right! Thanks for the reminder, babe!" If only her looks could kill, we'd have been rid of Captain Jackass. "Anyway, some fat admiral set something up in the Capital, wants to get the military back together to fight the Lazurians." Waylon gave the short and sweet version. "Figure we might as well head out there, take a few chumps out as we go. We could get some luxury treatment if we bring a few heads with us."

"And the _other_ thing?" I asked pointedly, trying to get him to divulge what had happened to the world.

"Other thing?" Waylon sounded confused. Ah, fuck it. I shook my head. He wasn't talking. "Anyway, we set out for the Capital in two days!" Waylon jumped from the table dramatically. Government or no government, I just wished we could be there sooner so we could be free of him.

Everyone felt like shit, but we still had work to do after that. Stone gathered everyone up and said we had to find weapons and fuel for our aircraft. Parties were set up for different tasks. I'd never thought the Old Man had a hidden sense of humor, because he put Sarah, me, and Kim and Eddie together for the task of looking for some fuel trucks.

And, since half the group was female, we got off to a late start because they needed to go 'fix their hair', or so they insisted over and over again. I needed a piss break myself, but even when I was done I was stuck standing in the hallway for a good ten minutes with Eddie waiting for them to come back, and while he awkwardly shuffled from feet to feet. I sometimes wondered if I was just getting old or that things had changed in the last ten years.

When Sarah and I had joined up, they'd been rebuilding the military from the ground up. They'd been all serious about it then. Somewhere along the line, they must've relaxed, otherwise people like Eddie wouldn't have gotten in. And Kim? I could believe she would because sometimes I'd annoy her on some oh-so-sensitive subject and she'd get angry real quick. This kid? As skinny and quiet as he was, there was no chance in hell. They just wanted another warm body, so they cut some corners. I didn't even bother trying to talk to him. I just tapped my foot till the girls finally came out of the bathroom and then we started moving.

"All right, now we just have to find the fuel station," I grumbled as we stepped outside into the cold again. As we walked towards the runway, I hung back a little and Sarah stayed with me. "So, what the heck were you two talking about for ten minutes?"

"I suggested this idea to Kim—that maybe the lot of us could leave Waylon and get out of here on our own," Sarah admitted. I frowned, thought about it, and shrugged. As long as we were free of Waylon, I guess I didn't mind travelling with everyone else.

"And what she'd say?"

"First she said that's against military law—we'd be deserters. Next, she said that we were stronger together. Then, she said Waylon at least knew where we were going. And finally, she asked me to stop staring at her over the stall door."

"Uh, huh." I tried to ignore that last bit. "Well, they're a bunch of mindless sheep," I shrugged. "What do you expect?"

"I think I made her uncomfortable by suggesting it, because she didn't answer me when I was talking about it." Sarah shrugged and motioned ahead where Kim was keeping just out of earshot for Sarah to say something without being overheard. "All of them have been taught discipline. In Stone's case it's all he's ever known. They aren't used to disregarding authority like we casually do." She was probably right about that. These people grew up obeying their parents, teachers, and whoever else. We... well, we didn't fucking need any of them! I realized I was scowling and shook my head. I hated getting dragged into past subjects; 'that' subject was especially off-limits. None of us ever mentioned it—ever. Not to each other, and not even to ourselves. Any aspect of our lives before meeting each other was taboo, just like Sarah's problems.

"Something wrong?" Sarah asked, noticing the pissed look on my face.

"Nothing..." I shook my head. "Let's just worry about moving again. We can discuss options when we can actually do them." Like always, Sarah seemed to recognize when she'd hit a nerve and dropped the subject. After that, we went looking for the fuel trucks. We accomplished as much, and got all the aircraft fueled and ready to go. That being done, we decided to get some rest while the others got their job done.

We all moved to the housing buildings after that. Considering that a lot of shit was still standing and working, I really was starting to wonder if the reason so many people died was because of their stupidity rather than what happened. Sarah and I chose a room as far away from the others as possible. After all that shit that had happened recently, we really needed to cool down.

And we did—twice. It worked; suddenly things didn't seem so stressful. We were alive, which was always good. Even better, we were still together. And we knew for sure there was a war going on. That didn't stop us. We'd kind of prepared for such a thing. We got to use the helicopter for real, too. THAT was almost as amazing a feeling that we could ever get—almost. We'd both passed out pretty optimistic.

_*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*_

I grumbled wearily—it felt like I'd only been asleep for a few minutes. I tried to ignore it, but the knocking persisted. There was no fucking way it was time to go again. And if it was an attack they'd have to be banging a lot more frantically. I kept hoping they'd go away.

_*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*_

Cursing under my breath, I reluctantly left the warm comfort of the bed, making Sarah mutter in her sleep, and groped around in the darkness for my pants. After I put them on, I angrily yanked the door open.

"What?" I snapped irritably. It was the same pilot I'd seen earlier in the cafeteria. His eyes were wide and almost bloodshot. He seemed to be shaking.

"Hey, listen, there's a small room down the hall, third door on the right, go wait there, I'll get the others." He jogged off.

"Wait, what the hell—" He was already gone. I stood there scratching my head. What now? Normally I wouldn't care... but something about this picked at my brain. Considering what had happened with Waylon earlier, it made sense to be a little bit suspicious. It might be good to keep an eye on things, too.

I managed to get Sarah up, luckily avoiding injury in the process, and we both got fully dressed before going to the room, which turned out to be an office. Inside, a portable blank white board was in the center. Eddy was sitting in a chair, jumping as we entered. "All right, what the hell is going on?" Sarah demanded as she flopped down on the floor and yawned. Eddy shook his head; he had no idea. A few moments later, the same jumpy pilot entered. Kim came shortly after. She looked surprised to see us there.

"Okay," the pilot began, stuttering slightly, "I already told Captain Stone about this, and he said to pass it to you two while he passes it on to others," he said to Kim and Eddy. "He said I shouldn't tell you guys, but I think he's being unfair." That was addressed to Sarah and me. We were both awake instantly. As far as I could tell, the Old Man had no reason to hate or distrust us. What was it that was so important enough we couldn't be trusted with it?

He picked up a marker and put a dot on the far end. In the middle of the board, below the first dot, he added another. Then he put a final dot in the right upper corner of the board. "I was reading a map earlier, and I noticed something. Okay, this was the path we took." He connected the dots of each end of the board with a diagonal line. It did look like the way we'd taken, even if it wasn't a real map. But what was the point? He seemed to read it in our reactions.

"But, I noticed something on a map earlier." He put two dots in the lower corner. "These are an Air Force base and a civilian airport, both of which we could've landed on instead. So, why did we not?" The others were transfixed. Sarah and I glanced at each other. I wasn't seeing anything yet, but this guy looked like he'd just discovered an assassination plot.

"…This base would've definitely had fuel that we would need?" Kim suggested. The pilot shook his head angrily.

"No!" He snapped, causing Kim to recoil slightly. This kid was pissed about something. "This base!" He jammed his figure on the board and smudged one of the dots. "That's the HQ for the 8th Air Force! If anyone was alive, they'd be there! And it was closer! SO WHY DIDN'T WE GO THERE INSTEAD?" He yelled the last bit, making some of us shrink back. "Why would we head north when we knew there were Lazurians around?" This dude looked like a junkie suffering from withdrawal, but my mind started working now that things had been spelled out to me. Waylon had been handling most of the navigation work, I guess, and something like that as sure as hell is on a map. Of course, the military always told you to look for a superior officer if you didn't know what to do. That bastard hated responsibility, so I figured he'd take any chance to drop us off on someone else. I was actually agreeing with this fucked up-looking guy. What the fuck had Waylon been thinking?

"That bastard led us here because he was hoping for a battle," Sarah said through gritted teeth, piecing it together faster than I could. "And because he didn't want to risk having to follow someone else's orders." The pilot nodded excitedly.

"Yes! He led us here, he knew there was a risk, but he led us here, anyway! It's his fault my friends are dead!" He panted for a minute. "Ours. Our friends." We were all silent. I could feel my anger building; it all made sense. Waylon always seemed eager to fight, and there'd been a damn good possibility there would be one here.

"He wouldn't do that," Kim said, though she herself sounded unconvincing. "He wouldn't purposely put himself or any of us in danger." She was making excuses, which I had no patience for at the moment.

"You're an ignorant brat if you believe that," I told her bluntly. "You act all proper and kind, and you expect everyone else to be the same. They ain't. The world is full of assholes, and one of them is Waylon." I stood up. Kim was taken aback.

"…No real military commander would discard soldiers like that." She was barely audible when she said it. Now that I thought about it, I was stuck with two naïve kids, and three assholes in charge. Just when I thought life was grand, this fucking happens! I could feel myself snap, something that hadn't happened in a long time. Fuck the rules. Fuck the consequences. Fuck everything. Sarah stood up next to me, and even if she hadn't gone into one of her usual rages, there was no mistaking the look in her eyes. I didn't really give a damn if it was intentional or plain stupidity, but Waylon definitely had to go. I was just about to say as much when something else occurred to me: the Old Man had specifically said for us to be out of the loop. Even if we put a hundred bullets into Waylon's ass, the only guy fit for command wouldn't trust us. Fuck. I stood up.

"Fuck this," I said as I smashed the door open with my foot, Sarah following behind me. "You know what? We don't need this. Fuck these idiots, fuck that asshole, and fuck the job." I hadn't meant that last bit, but at that moment I was too pissed off to care. I stormed into our room and grabbed my helmet and pistol. "You need anything?" I asked Sarah.

"I'll go find us a map. We'll need it. Go get the helicopter ready."

"Be careful," I told her, and we split up. I walked out the building and across the runway. _I knew I'd do something like this eventually._Here I was, deserting my unit. Fuck it. We'd still head to the Capital and join the war. They wouldn't care if they needed all the trained pilots they could get their hands on. Besides, it wasn't like there was anything we'd miss about these fuckwits.

I made sure the helicopter was ready and loaded. Once Sarah came, we could climb right in and we'd be off. We'd head to the Capital. We'd go to some level-headed people for a change instead of the second-rate idiots we'd been with in the past decade. I never realized how much I'd hated that until now. Well, it was over, so no point getting my shit messed up. Someone came out of the building and began to walk towards me, but it sure as hell wasn't Sarah. My grip tightened on my sidearm.

"What the hell do you want, Old Man?" I still kept my gun pointed towards the ground since he hadn't drawn his. "Do you trust us now? If it's a 'bye', I don't want to hear it."

"I wouldn't expect this from two adult officers," he began, and I just felt myself getting even more pissed because he still talked in the same flat voice. "Do you think going rogue will do any good?"

"Fuck if I know, but it's better than hanging around with you people."

"Desertion in time of war is a capital offense."

"Yeah, right. And this is coming from someone who is a piss-poor leader? How the fuck did you let Waylon take charge and fuck up everything? Christ, if you were in charge nobody would be dead!" I looked behind him and saw Sarah approaching cautiously. "Everyone here is a fucking idiot beyond hope, so why should we bother?"

"There are rules and a hierarchy to follow. Going around it is dangerous. You know that as much as I do."

"Yeah, so what? You honestly think we'll follow your lead? Fuck that! Look at what happened to the others when they followed him like mindless sheep!"

"Our point exactly. Now, move." Sarah was now standing behind Stone. He wasn't fazed, and then he spoke in that same low tone, which pissed me off.

"You lack perception of any kind beside your own. You have little tolerance for anyone. You have been serving for seven years and neither of you accept the structure of authority." He simply stepped aside. Sarah came up to me and showed me a map and some rations she had salvaged somewhere.

"Let's go," she told me, and started climbing into her seat. I looked back at the Old Man. He didn't look mad at all. I really didn't know why he bothered trying to make us stay if he didn't trust us. Oh, right: they were all fuckwits.

"Guess we'll see each other in hell someday." I shrugged, turned around and climbed up into pilot seat and shut the canopy.

"Sorry about that," Sarah said. "Kim ran to get him because she thought we were going to start a mutiny."

"Well, he didn't do anything." We both glanced outside. Stone had turned his back to us and was walking towards the buildings. Must've realized he was just wasting his time. In spite of my anger, I didn't hit the ignition button just yet. "Fuck, things went downhill fast."

"We knew it would happen," Sarah sighed. "Staying is worse than leaving now."

"We can't go back now anyway, that's for sure." I strapped my helmet on and finally hit the ignition switch. The helicopter came to life. No one came out to see us off. Stone was probably the only one who knew we were leaving. I was kind of curious what they would do next, since they'd clearly been planning something. Whatever it was, it didn't concern us anymore, and I wouldn't lose sleep over it.

Once I'd gotten some sense of the map, I pulled on the stick and the helicopter rose into the air. The others should have heard it now; would they try and chase us down? We could destroy their planes while we were here... _Nah, that's too cruel, even for me. _As I turned the helicopter and started flying in the direction of the Capital, I remembered having a funny thought about starting a third life after the meteors fell. Well, now I was starting a forth. Hopefully, it would turn out a lot better than the first or the last one did.

XX Author's Note. XX

This was the first major difference from the original version, and I expanded it a bit during revisions. I wondered how Waylon actually had men following him when he put their lives in danger for his own amusement. I also noticed that in the mission where you first encounter Waylon, you already have a B copter among your troops. And thus, an idea was born!


	11. Fear Experiment

Notice: This chapter has been updated as of December 2014

X James X

The cold wind blew in my face, making it numb. Regardless, I kept a firm grip on the roof of the Humvee, staring at the seemingly endless line of vehicles in front of me. During their retreat, the raiders had left quite a few of their vehicles, which had been promptly converted to our cause. The infantry assigned to the provisional tank company had gotten most of the recovered Humvees, meaning we didn't have to ride on the tanks anymore. The chore of manning the M240 machine gun on the roof was a task Sam and I had elected to take shifts in. It was cold, but as we rolled down the deserted interstate, I couldn't help but feel relieved. Everyone had been in higher spirits after the talk of food.

Beside the Humvee, a bike rolled by. The two civilians riding it waved and I waved back. The driver pulled on the throttle and the motorcycle sped ahead. Despite the machine gun on the sidecar, they were still deemed too outdated for us, but it proved to be a hit with the civilians. So far, the civilians were just irregular forces; lightly armed and for the most part riding in regular trucks and vehicles. They would need more training, but that could wait after we settled down at a permanent base, which hopefully was just ahead.

I'd taken some time to count our numbers in the previous night, just to see how much weaponry the whole force was packing. After the casualties we sustained (which still hung on my consciousness), we still had around 1,600 people, civilians and military personnel. I wasn't sure about the numbers, but a standard tank battalion usually had somewhere around 600 officers and enlisted men. Though as an independent unit, the 12th Battalion likely was organized differently, and then there were the groups the Battalion had picked up, too.

Among all of us, we had around forty or fifty tanks split equally between the heavier Abrams and the light Sheridans. We had around four anti-air vehicles, though thankfully we hadn't needed them yet. The 12th Battalion also had four self-propelled artillery pieces (two of them were rocket vehicles), and the number doubled if you counted the anti-tank guns. Then, there were several dozen Humvees and APCs to transport almost 600 infantrymen currently travelling with the battalion: nearly half of its total strength. In short, we weren't a force to be messed with. On a personal scale, it was nice to be motorized. _At least we don't have to go on marching around the country._

"This is a waste of our talent." I heard Sam complain below. For the past hour, he had been wondering how we went from specialized helicopter assault troops to regular grunts. I had to agree with him; I'd always taken pride in my air assault badge. Anson shot back his usual reply to shut up and be adaptive, and Sam went quiet. Despite spending nearly four weeks as a group together, Anderson and Anson hadn't warmed up entirely, though I couldn't really blame them. Things would get better with time. At least, I certainly hoped it would.

Food... It sounded too good to be true. I was a little pessimistic, admittedly, but my stomach was where most of my hope that it was the truth came from, and a permanent base, too. The civilians could build a town there, and we'd defend it and go find more survivors. Not an easy life on either side, but it was one I could get used to. And where would we go from there? Who knew? I hoped I'd be there to find out.

Four hours later, the deserted, barren landscape gave way to rolling hills, some with the grass still green. The dust cover wasn't as strong, as if the sun was simply blocked by a cloud. Over the roar of nearly a hundred diesel engines, a lot of chatter could be heard. As we had learned yesterday, this factory wasn't that far away; we should be there any minute now. Sam stuck his head through the window.

"Where the hell is this factory? I don't see jack." I was curious about it myself. A factory with that kind of system would be in a city, or at least you'd expect it to be.

"Be patient," Anson told him. Sam's stomach growled in response. I couldn't see Anson's face, but I could hear Anderson laughing.

"Give the boy a break, Riley, you used to be like that too." Had he? It was hard to imagine the silent, intelligent, and emotionless sergeant we knew being anything but that. It was hard to imagine either of them like that. He might be a bit informal at times, but Anderson was still as hard a sergeant as we'd always known him to be.

"I see no resemblance," Anson replied.

"Eh, not exactly, I guess. Still, these boys ain't that bad, just a little wet behind the ears. You need to lighten up a little."

"What about all this fighting that we've been doing?" Sam asked, seemingly offended.

"What we've experienced are mere skirmishes," Anson told him.

"What he said," Anderson's voice seemed a bit less friendly," is gospel truth. We've both seen real war, and I mean real war. You boys have no idea what it's like, and you should be damn thankful you probably never will." The way he said it sent a slight chill down my spine.

"You should also show us a little more gratitude," Anson added. "The fact that you have the privilege to train under us is something many soldiers will never come close to." I realized exactly what he meant: we lost the last war because almost all our veterans were killed and couldn't train new men to win against a experienced enemy.

"Did you guys ever spend time as P. ?" Sam asked. A lot of prisoners had been taken, too, but we'd never heard anything of it from Anson or Anderson.

"Yeah, we both got caught a week before the battle ended," Anderson recalled. I could almost hear him scratching his chin. "The helicopter got shot down near an arms plant, didn't it?"

"As I recall," Anson replied.

"Yeah. Listen to him boys, he has a point. You don't know what war really is. You should also be happy the commander here seems to actually care about our lives. Most officers don't give a damn about casualties." Things drifted off into an uneasy silence. I suddenly felt a lot less important. I shook my head. I couldn't allow negative thoughts to come to my head; it would only hamper my performance. I noticed something up ahead.

"We're moving off the interstate!" I called down. Up ahead, the convoy drifted off onto a side ramp. We drove onto a smaller, two lane road and through three small towns over the next hour. All of them had the same feeling: peaceful, but empty. Had all the citizens gone to this factory? After the third, we all pulled over to refuel.

"Keep us covered," Anderson called. As they got out of the Humvee for a stretch and to refuel it, I gripped the handles of the larger gun and swung it around. On either side of us, hills rose gently up and down—couldn't see anything beyond, though. The refueling process began and was finished without anything incident. We continued onwards. The rolling hills soon turned back into flat plains, still with no sign of a major population center.

I was glad when it was time for Sam and I to change places. I ducked back into the Humvee and rubbed my face to bring feeling back to it. "Great view, but the weather sucks!" Sam called down, causing me to grin. I'd been skeptical about the idea when I first heard it. And my belief that we were chasing a pipe dream only increased the longer we drove through what was obviously undeveloped land. I was a bit surprised when I saw a sign announcing that we were crossing state lines. We had been near the west coast just a few weeks ago. I hadn't seen a map yet, but I was pretty sure we had to be at least 200 miles east of where they'd found us, and probably a few miles north. We'd scoured a lot of land...

"I never did get why the country's so under-developed once you get away from the coast, the rivers, and the inland seas," Sergeant Anderson commented up front. "It's so empty out here, Lazuria could probably sneak in, build a military base, and we'd never find out about it." That was a scary thought, because it did seem possible. Who knew what could've been out here? The factory, apparently.

A couple of a dozen miles later, the 12th Battalion drove into a small town and stopped. This town looked a lot different from the ones we'd passed through before. This town seemed to have a lot more modern buildings, and quite a few warehouses. Did this have something to do with the factory? Captain Brenner must've decided it was, because the Battalion didn't move out again after unsuccessfully searching for survivors, although we did find a few supplies.

"I don't see a factory." Sam was looking around from the machine gun. "Where the fuck is it?"

"Show some discipline, Private," Anderson warned. "Hurry up and wait." Wait we did. Something must've picked the CO's interest, because a perimeter was ordered ten minutes later. The provisional tank company and one of the Battalion's light tank companies were ordered to guard the plains east of the city. Two of the Battalion's tank companies were set up to the south and the east. The rest of the Battalion stayed in town, ready to move at a moment's notice.

"Nice place." Peter looked around. We'd relocated to the outskirts of the town just above a small meadow. It was still oddly bright and green and filled with flowers despite the sun being gone. It was nice... but there were something unusual about it. Actually, the whole countryside seemed to pick at my danger instinct. I couldn't explain why.

We settled in and waited. Infantrymen positioned themselves and looked down on the valley and the plains beyond it with binoculars. The tanks and Humvees had positioned themselves on the hill where they could fire down below if necessary. This seemed like the perfect defensive position: the high ground. Aside from that, military doctrine usually forbade attacking across wide open ground, even with armor, because of advancements in artillery and air power, not that we had the latter.

We should've been safe, which was part of the reason I was surprised when I thought I saw something in my binoculars. It wasn't anything distinct at first; I just thought I could see movement far off in the distance. It wasn't particularly windy, and I didn't think something was being blown around. It was so nondescript I lost sight of it for a moment and lowered my binoculars to look around.

Sergeant Anderson and Peter were both staring through their binoculars without any visible reaction—Sam wasn't looking that far, and Sergeant Anson was lying prone on the ground staring through the scope, equally unbothered. I did notice a few other infantrymen from the provisional company pointing and talking. Had they seen something too? I decided to bring it up.

"Think I saw something." Everyone looked towards me. "Straight ahead, looks like some movement, but I lost sight of it. I think I'm not the only one." I looked at the other infantrymen, some of whom were now moving towards the tanks. A minute later, a message came over the radio from the captain commanding the 12th Battalion's light tank company.

"Jackal-Six to all units; hold tight. There may be something out there. Can I get a Humvee to do some recon?"

"This is the Armored Cav squad from the provisional tank company; Jackal-Six, we'll mount up and go look," a voice volunteered over the radio.

"Copy. Don't go more than two miles away from the line," the lieutenant ordered. A moment later, two Humvees broke from the line and headed down hill into the valley. Everyone was a little tenser after that. I thought again about whether or not there may be more than one band of raiders out there. If that was case, we'd just have to put them down as well. Still, I wasn't comfortable knowing that there may be an enemy near what may have been the answer to our problems. We waited.

"Alert, alert!" It was the recon squad now, sounding urgent. "We have eyes on unidentified armor approaching. Distance from the line, four miles. We cannot identify the country of origin and they are not responding to communications."

"Ah, fuck," Sam muttered behind me.

"Understood, fall back. Everyone, get ready for possible contact!" The company commander ordered. All infantrymen still on the hill, us included, hit the dirt. If tanks were coming, staying low was our best bet, especially when we didn't have any AT ourselves. The tanks all readjusted their positions to bring all their main guns to bear on the valley below. We continued to wait.

The Humvees carrying the recon teams came back quickly and their men, equipped for anti-tank warfare, took up positions. A Humvee sped up from the town a moment later and Lieutenant Lin stepped out to the front, making it clear she was taking charge of the situation. She scanned the horizon with binoculars before returning to the Humvee to grab the radio. I assumed she was trying to contact Captain Brenner or this mysterious new enemy.

We got our first sight of them a moment later in the noticeable shape of a dust cloud in the distance. Once more, I looked through my binoculars to observe. There they were, approaching over the horizon: a line of tanks traveling in a surprisingly well-maintained formation across the flat landscape. There were about eight in all, but I couldn't tell what type of tanks they were. We studied Lazurian tanks old and new during our training, and we were familiar enough with our own side. These looked like neither. They seemed sleeker and more modern, but painted in a dull gray color that clashed horribly with the green landscape they were driving across. But tanks they undoubtedly were, and they were speeding right at us.

"On the right flank!" Someone shouted and I quickly turned my binoculars to the south. There, slightly behind the tanks, was another dust cloud. Adjusting my binoculars, I saw three wheeled vehicles traveling in a single line. I felt a jolt when I saw them, because these _did _seem familiar. They looked similar to the Lazurian BTRs, but these were much more modern-looking, too. And that wasn't a machine gun on top like a regular APC: it was a small _cannon_. I lowered my binoculars when someone called there were three more vehicles approaching from the left flank as well.

"Armor head-on and mechanized infantry in the flanks? That's basic Lazurian strategy," Sergeant Anderson grunted, "but they don't look like them." These definitely weren't raiders, but they didn't seem Lazurian, either. Whoever they were, you couldn't mistake their intentions. They were hostile.

"All forces, I'm taking command!" Lieutenant Lin barked over the comm. net. "Be ready to engage! I want two light tanks on each side of this hill to stop those APCs. All units, fire as soon as they're in range." And just like that, we were in combat.

"They don't even have infantry." Sam sounded disappointed. Our job here was to guard the tanks from enemy infantry wielding anti-tank weapons. If none were present, I wasn't complaining.

"Be ready," Sergeant Anson ordered us simply. We pressed ourselves to the ground and waited for the situation to develop. Armored warfare wasn't my strong point, but I knew some of its maxims: immobile tanks were more accurate, moving tanks were not (despite stabilizing systems); moving targets were harder to hit; a tank's frontal armor is nearly impenetrable; and that an Abram's gun had an effective range of over a mile. Those were light tanks advancing; they couldn't have that range.

The distance closed as the tanks approached the hill. Attacking an enemy on the high ground was suicidal, even with heavy armor. But, with light armor against heavy tanks? Whoever these guys were, they didn't seem very smart. A flanking movement showed some sign of intelligence, but at the most it could only be a platoon total. Stupidity like this was hard to come by—so I started to suspect there was something that we were missing.

The bark of a tank's main gun broke my stupor, but it wasn't the roar of a nearby Abrams as I expected. It came from the leading enemy tank below instead, a shot angled up at us. Equally stunning was the sound of the round striking the front armor of one of the Abrams. Even with ear protection, the sound made me flinch. The heavy tank rocked under the impact, but didn't suffer any major damage. Then, the rest of the enemy tanks fired, and the sound was repeated as rounds stuck the front of the remaining five Abrams of the provisional tank company. And then, two of the Sheridans from the provisional tank company were fired upon. Each of the little tanks rocked back from the hit, and one exploded a moment later, sending lethal shrapnel soaring through the air. There was an outbreak of shouting and swearing from the infantry, and I was too shocked to react. All eight tanks had fired on the move and _hit _something. Worse, they'd destroyed a tank with a frontal hit. _How did they do that?_

Before I could consider the implications, the cannons on the Abrams all roared nearly simultaneously. The land around the column of tanks exploded in smoke and flying dirt. Five enemy tanks drove out of it and fired. Again, all the rounds struck the front of the Abrams loudly and made them shake. And then, they fired again. I thought I saw one Abram actually slide back in the dirt from the successive hits.

The light tanks managed to get off a third impossibly quick shot before the Abrams fired again, creating the same effect as last time. This time, no enemy tanks drove out of the smoke. The entire exchange had been outside the range of our light tanks. I was still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened when I was distracted by tank fire from the flanks— it was the Sheridans of the 12th Battalion firing on the enemy APCs. I swore in shock when one of the small tanks on the right flank exploded spectacularly before the enemy was silenced. Those APCs had cannons all right: deadly ones.

A deathly silence overcame the hill after the APCs were destroyed, ruined only by the three burning hulks of metal that had been our light tanks. They'd been completely destroyed:—no survivors. I became sickly aware of the smell of burning meat.

"Status report!" Lieutenant Lin was still standing, and was apparently unfazed. Sergeant Anderson called us in as okay before turning to us and shaking his massive head.

"Fuck, those things fired at us before they should've been able to." He didn't know how, just that it was supposed to be like that. Sergeant Anson was vigilantly scanning the landscape. Peter was looking around to make sure no one was in need of medical assistance, and Sam was still in the Humvee turret, although now he was clearly shaken. That had been a hell of a battle to witness.

But it wasn't over.

"More contacts, up front!" Someone shouted, snapping me back into focus.

"They had reserves?" Peter seemed surprised. I was, too. If they had more forces, why hadn't they thrown them at us all at once? Why were they even having a follow up attack?

"More armor." Sergeant Anderson grunted, compelling me to glance through my binoculars. An enemy force was standing pat over the horizon, well out of range. There were twelve tanks now, six on the far right, and six on the far left. They reminded me of Abrams more than Lazurian T-55s, but they were definitely a whole other type of tank. More modern APCs sat behind them, still. Where they waiting for more forces?

I turned my sights to the flanks. A column of five APCs sat on each side, both guarded by a pair of light tanks each. They were going to try and flank us or bypass the hill and try to hit our other forces. The lieutenant was calling in the radio for more reinforcements to be deployed on each side of the hill to counter the possibility of a flanking attack and up here. They may try and flank us, but their main effort was definitely going to be against this hill.

"Man, I can't believe they're doing a frontal assault again," Sam moaned. "Who the hell is ordering these guys? A kid should have more common sense!"

"Just focus on putting them down, Private," Sergeant Anderson suggested. "There are a lot of APCs down there, so odds are we'll be getting some visitors this time."

"I'd like to see them try." Sam had the machine gun turned in their direction. One of the most agonizing things about war is having the knowledge that an attack was coming and waiting for it to start. I lay in the grass and drank from my canteen. The sound of heavy vehicles told me other units of the Battalion were setting up on each side of the hill. There were only three other tank companies, and since we needed a rear guard, one of them was surely back in the town. Still, that meant nearly every tank the Battalion had to be showing up for this confrontation.

Our reinforcements showed up after that: the provisional infantry company and a platoon from one of the Battalion's mechanized companies. The hill was quite wide, so the APCs and Humvees pulled into the gaps between tanks so they could fire down at the enemy. The mechanized infantry, some of who were carrying anti-tank weapons, and the regular infantry filled the rest of the gap between the armored vehicles. Some of them started digging foxholes, something I hadn't done for fear the enemy would attack soon.

Then, the four anti-tank guns arrived. The massive guns dated back to the Great War, but they still made pretty effective artillery and anti-tank weapons for infantry units. Each of the Battalion's infantry companies had one, which were both hauled to the hilltop by APCs and set up by their crews. The provisional infantry company had a pair of them as well, and two cargo trucks hauled them to the hilltop just after the APCs.

We now had over a dozen tanks on the hill, four pieces of short-range artillery, and a few hundred infantrymen, some equipped with anti-tank weaponry. Our mysterious enemy wasn't letting up, either. A look through my binoculars revealed several more light tanks had joined the center, although there was still a noticeable gap in the middle. What were they waiting for?

"Okay, listen up," Sergeant Anderson yelled at us so we could still hear him. "It might get too loud to hear pretty soon, so here are your orders: don't waste ammo on anything you know you damn well can't hurt. And if you see something you can hurt, kill it. Understood?"

"Yes, Sergeant!" There was an unbearable silence for the next few minutes. Everyone had set up, everyone was waiting. The enemy, whoever they were, was still stationary. Were they waiting for reinforcements, for us to move first, or were they contemplating their options? Most of us, me included, spent the time watching through our binoculars.

The enemy on the flanks hadn't increased their numbers, just the center. I found myself focused on that. How powerful were those main battle tanks? What range did they have? I set down my binoculars to check my rifle again. Those tanks weren't my concern; whoever was in those APCs was. Our armor would be focused on the enemy tanks, which presented the good possibility that those APCs could get close enough to dismount their infantry.

"More enemy reinforcements for the center column!" Sergeant Anson called. "It's..." He paused and then slowly raised his head from the scope of his rifle, his eyes wide. The fact that he seemed stunned surprised me. As a training and evaluations sergeant at the base, he'd never been known for displays of emotion, but I saw genuine shock on his face.

"What...the...fuck..." Sergeant Anderson said. Likewise, he'd never shown shock either. And then I started hearing curses and exclamations come from all over the line.

"What is that?"

"The fuck in that thing."

That got me out of my dazed state as I turned back front, raising my binoculars to see what the hell had gotten everyone so spooked. When I saw what it was, I dropped the binoculars from my hands and felt myself freeze. "Holy..."

"What the fucking hell is that?" Sam yelled in a high-pitched voice. I picked up my binoculars again, checking to see if I was hallucinating. To my horror, I wasn't. One more vehicle had joined the enemy's center formation: a tank. Or at least, I thought it was a tank; it looked more like a fortress on treads.

Whatever it was, it was _massive_. It easily filled the space the enemy had left in the center of the formation. Since it was sitting next to other tanks, I had a means to compare it, too. It was as wide as three tanks and about three stories high. There was, oddly enough, what looked like a giant windshield on the front, big enough that you probably could've driven an Abrams through it. And then I focused on the top of the beast.

It had five cannons, arranged in a pyramidal shape. I gaped at the set up. Lazuria had experimented with tanks armed with multiple cannons, but it never worked until now. Something like that shouldn't exist! My eyes scanned the top of the behemoth, and I saw a tiny machine gun that seemed pathetic atop such a thing. I peeled back my focus to look at the whole thing just sitting there, menacing and deadly.

"What the fuck..." I muttered to myself. "What - oh shit." I breathed when it suddenly started moving at us with a crawl, its massive treads dragging it along. It was going to come right at us!

"Get ready!" Sergeant Anderson warned, even though it was still quite a distance away. Then, the rest of the enemy started moving. The light tanks sped right past it, and the larger tanks and APCs weren't too far. The enemies on the flank started their advance as well. All the while that massive tank continued to crawl forward at us.

"Damn." I put my binoculars down and readied my rifle. We'd have to take out those enemies before we dealt with whatever the hell that thing was. A massive cloud of dust soon blocked the massive tank as all the enemy vehicles sped straight at us again. This time though, we were prepared: two salvos of rockets from the Battalion's artillery platoon, still stationed in town, soared over our heads and into the valley below.

The sound made the ground shake as the charging enemy formations were engulfed in multiple balls of fire and great clouds of black smoke. Cheering broke up amongst the infantry; it had seemed like a direct hit. _We still got the defensive advantage AND artillery support. They don't have either. _Smaller explosions, likely the Battalion's self-propelled guns, fired on the flanks. This time we'd hit first.

We got mixed results. More than a few light tanks drove right out of the black clouds and continued their charge. Only two of the heavier tanks did though, and one slowed to a crawl and went up after just a few feet. Five APCs rolled through after the tanks. We hadn't blunted their charge, but we'd weakened them. Now we just had to deal with the survivors.

The Abrams gunner didn't wait to be surprised this time; they fired first, and the anti-tank guns joined in just after. All the shots missed when the enemy tanks changed course with surprising ease. Then, all the enemy tanks returned fire. The side of the hill exploded and I pressed my face against the ground as dirt rained down on us. When I looked up, I found my view of the valley blocked by smoke. I couldn't see the enemy!

Then, the enemy tanks fired again. The six Abrams rocked back, and I was one of the many people who cursed when another Sheridan went up in smoke. The enemy had shot the hill to create a screen and were right on the side when we saw them again. Every tank started exchanging fire, and I had to cover my ears from the noise.

The exchange lasted close to a minute as the tanks reloaded and fired, and they were joined by the anti-tank guns and the infantry. Two more of our Sheridans and another vehicle, probably an APC, were destroyed by the enemy. When the smoke cleared, all of the enemy tanks were smoldering hulks on the side of our hill. We had little time to relax, though.

"Check the wounded!" Peter went to go help soldiers that had been hurt by the blasts, and other infantrymen were trying to put out fires from the destroyed vehicles. It was all quiet on the flanks as well, but I could see more smoke rising from each side; we'd taken losses there, too.

_Who the fuck are these people?_ We hadn't taken losses like this against the raiders. These guys were well equipped and suicidal: a bad combination if you asked me. This had been a hard fight, but it wasn't finished.

Another rocket barrage reminded me of that strangely massive tank from before, and I looked to check its progress. The enemy APCs had spread out and halted in the valley outside of our range to wait for the larger tank to come forward. It was still crawling forward at a measly speed through the cratered landscape around it.

And then, in absolute disbelief, I watched an artillery shell hit the thing directly. It kept on going as if nothing had happened. That was a 155mm shell, capable of knocking down whole buildings if aimed right. How the hell had that not slowed it down? It was still coming, even as artillery shell after artillery shell impacted the ground around it and scored direct hits; it was too close to for us to attempt another rocket barrage.

For a wonder, none of its five cannons fired at us from long range. I do recall that they were short, so either they didn't have too good a range or they couldn't be elevated enough. Either way, I wasn't comfortable with that thing getting close to us; it looked absolutely menacing. Now that it was closer though, I noticed something new about it: the tank was only tall in the front; behind it was a long flat metal body that resembled part of a normal tank with giant metallic bulbs sticking out.

Our artillery and rocket vehicles ceased fire; it clearly wasn't affecting the tank and it was getting too close. When that happened, the enemy APCs in the valley continued their advance. As the giant tank got too close for indirect fire, all of our Abrams and anti-tank guns fired at it as it approached, but none of the rounds that detonated seemed to do any damage. The tank ignored the fire and continued forward.

It didn't fire even as it approached the base of the hill. Every tank, anti-tank gun, and infantrymen wielding anti-tank weaponry on the hill were firing on it now, and even a pair of tanks had moved forward from the flank to fire at its side. Round after round hit it and detonated, but it showed no outward damage and slowly crawled forward. It was unnatural, terrifying even.

A few tanks realized it was pointless and aimed for the enemy APCs, which quickly retreated again. About that time, the rolling fortress had finally advanced to the bottom of the hill. It rolled to a stop just as it hit the rise. It stood still with its cannons focused up at the hill top as dozens of shells continued to pound its front and sides. All the infantry positioned on the hill were captivated; it looked absolutely massive. And then it fired all its guns at once, and shocked awe turned to pure terror.

The sound was unbearably loud. It felt like a knife being stabbed into my brain and I involuntarily started having spasms, something I wasn't alone in doing. "Arrrgh!" I groaned and tried unsuccessfully to grab my head with my hands through my helmet. It felt like it was throbbing and I was suddenly feeling nauseous. It took me a moment to realize five of our tanks were now burning.

It turned into a ragged exchange after that. The vehicles and any infantryman still standing started firing at the damn thing, the latter with machine guns even though it wasn't effective. One of the tank's cannons fired every few seconds, each round destroying one of our vehicles. The sound wasn't as bad, but I was already suffering a severe headache just from the first salvo.

Groaning, I took my hands away from ears and repositioned myself with my rifle. I was just in time, too. With our tanks tied up, the enemy APCs finally pulled up to the line with their smaller cannons barking, only they were focused on the lighter vehicles and infantry. Then, they pulled to a stop and their rear doors opened.

It was impossible to make oneself heard though this noise, but we'd been given orders before hand: fire on what we could kill. When the enemy infantry dismounted from their APCs in noticeablly black and bulky uniforms, I was among the dozens of infantrymen that fired on them as they ducked behind destroyed vehicles, the massive tank, or their own APCs which had thus far avoided destruction. I felt dizzy, but I still fired.

Screaming, the crack of rifles, explosions, and tank cannons firing: those were the only sounds on that hill until a dull ringing was the only thing I could hear. I squinted through the smog and continued to fire at whatever infantry tried to come up the hill from behind the burning wreckage of armored vehicles. My senses were too overloaded to check on the others.

Scan. Aim. Fire. Reload when necessary. I seemed to do it for hours, even though it couldn't have been for more than a few frantic minutes. These new enemy soldiers continued to fall, and their APCs continued to ignite one by one. A lot more of our equipment was being destroyed too, but I wasn't keeping track. That one massive tank still stood, its guns angled upwards from the bottom of the hill and firing at us. Through the smoke I could see round after round continue to hammer into it.

_What is that thing?_

Eventually, the infantry stopped coming and the last of the APCs were destroyed, and all that was left was that behemoth. I still couldn't hear a single thing. I felt tired, and I didn't get up from my prone position. I just lay there, staring down through the smoke at the thing. Round after round pounded into it from all sides, and it responded in kind. I couldn't even hear it, but it had to be fierce.

Explosion followed explosion. At some point, I sat up on my knees. Doing this during combat was dangerous, but my other senses seemed to have deserted me. I just watched the exchange of fire without thought.

And then it stopped. The last rounds were fired from dangerously close range and impacted the gargantuan tank. Instead of returning fire, it sat still for a moment, and then it exploded with colossal force. The flash was blinding, and the shockwave knocked me flat on my back. Even then, I could see a cloud of black smoke reaching up and drifting over me.

_"Huh," _I thought, _"we finally got it."_ And then I passed out.

X Near the automatic crop factory, an hour after the battle. X

Captain Brenner stood solemnly at the top of the hill, surrounded by the charred remains of the vehicles that had been under his command and now only served as coffins for their crews. Eleven tanks, six Abrams among them, were lost. All but two vehicles had been destroyed from the provisional tank company. With all its Abrams destroyed and only two Sheridans left, it was hardly an armored unit anymore. Both of the Battalion's anti-tank guns had been destroyed, as well as one of the two AT guns the infantry companies had. Between all forces, the Battalion had spent nearly three-fifths of its stock of anti-armor rounds. If this kept up...

Aside from that, all the infantrymen that had been on the hill - a few hundred soldiers from both the provisional companies and from one of his own - had been carried back with dazed expressions on their faces, with a few having gone permanently deaf. A pair of APCs that had come to attack the enemy infantry had been destroyed as well. All of it was due to the burning hulks of metal sitting at the bottom of the hill.

It was the first serious loss he'd experienced. Outwardly, he stayed calm. War was war; losses were expected and these men and women had known what they signed up for. But, there was a fine line between dying for one's country and dying for something else; Brenner had a hard time believing the first one had been the case here.

The automatic crop factory had been destroyed, apparently while the entire Battalion had been focused on this thing sitting below him. He learned that there was another one in this part of the country, as the strange girl Will had brought along told him and which Dr. Morris confirmed, but it wasn't occupying his thoughts at the moment.

It was the enemy. Who were they? There wasn't any identification on any of the tanks or bodies. All of the equipment was unfamiliar to them as well. The heavy tanks resembled Rubinelle Abrams, but they were clearly different in a lot of ways. The light tanks looked neither like Rubinelle Sheridans and M2s nor Lazurian T-34s. The rifles didn't resemble anything standard-issue in both militaries, too. Brenner wasn't too familiar with the armed forces of other countries, but he doubted any other country would bother Rubinelle, especially now.

And why had they attacked? Had it been a diversion for their other forces to capture the factory, Brenner would've understood. But destroying the factory? It didn't make any sense to him. If these people hadn't wanted it, they must've had their own sources. But why did they consider them a threat? It was a lot of questions Brenner didn't have the time or resources to consider. The 12th Battalion was running out of food rather fast, and they'd have to find that second factory soon. Still, Brenner had a gut instinct that this wasn't just a random occurrence. There was something significant about this that would come up later. Of that, he was sure.

As he turned to walk back to town, he stopped alongside one of the burnt Sheridans. The remains of melted communications equipment told him this had been the company commander's tank. Captain Marcus Issac had been in the 12th before Brenner, first as a 1st lieutenant before getting promoted to captain himself. He wisely used the striking power of his light tanks constantly and had voted for Brenner when, after things in the Battalion fell apart, a new CO had to be elected from the company commanders. A loyal man, definitely one of his best men besides Lin, and now he was gone.

"I'm sorry." Brenner shook his head. He hadn't expected such a vicious frontal assault from an unfamiliar enemy. If he had, he might've been able to respond in a way that wouldn't have cost the Battalion a lot of lives. Every man and woman in the 12th, as well as those who had joined them, were trusting him to lead them. A real commander wasn't judged merely on the battles they won, but by the men they commanded. As the Humvee drove Brenner back to town, he decided that something like this couldn't happen again. The world was a much more dangerous place now, and they had to be constantly ready for a lot different possibilities. Brenner would see to it that they were. Too many lives had been lost today. He'd make sure that didn't happen again.

XX Author's Note. XX

I know I exaggerated the War Tank, but let's admit it: the in-game version isn't really as invincible or powerful as they made it out to be. It'll make things a lot more interesting in the whole trilogy if these behemoths really are near unstoppable.


	12. Chapter 11

Note: This chapter has been updated as of 2015

X Tim X

Two days on our own and I still didn't regret a fucking thing. The peace and quiet felt nice, and there was nothing greater than having some time alone with the only person in this world I would say I actually cared about. The unnatural silence was a bit on the freaky side, though. We still hadn't found anyone, but we were still heading for the Capital. Last night we'd just decided to land in a parking lot, check out some super stores, and spend the night there after getting some supplies. Though it showed signs of looting, there were still some things there. No idea about the people, though. We spent the night in a tent with junk food. Sounds like the kind of shit kids would do.

_Not that I want to act like something as bad as a kid—but it was fun. Bah, I hate kids. _No one was around to see us, anyway. We were free to do whatever the hell we wanted. We'd already taken advantage of that fact twice. We were still sticking with our military career though; that hadn't changed. That was our best chance for survival, and what else could we do, anyway? Still, we could enjoy what time we had on our own.

"Might as well," I muttered to myself. We grabbed some supplies and stashed it where we could on the helicopter. We were ready to go, but I had to take care of a few last-minute things. I yawned wearily and glanced at the bathroom mirror as I leaned over the sink. Man, did I look like shit. There were dark marks under my eyes as black as night. My skin was somewhat paler as well. Even though we'd eaten, I could tell I'd lost a few pounds already. Talk about going downhill.

"Funny that I'm worried about my appearance," I said as I shook my head and rubbed some shaving cream on my face. My face had started to itch, so I decided I might as well shave now. It had been a pain just to get this stuff; people had picked the store clean—even the most random items—and left a mess for us to sort through. Shame we could only take essentials; there was still some good stuff left here. Rinsing the razor, I started shaving.

It really was kind of weird being on our own. I kept thinking about it because it was so hard to believe. We were behaving in ways we hadn't since we were kids. Even if I was getting close to thirty, it was pretty good. Almost made me wonder why we'd needed to hang around other people in the first place. Still, I had an odd feeling—like I probably shouldn't be doing it. Eh, it wasn't going to last forever, so why bother?

I'd gotten through the left half of my face when the door was knocked open and Sarah looked in. "There you are." She stalked towards me. She had a small backpack: something to carry a few of the things we'd pilfered. I had one too, already outside. "What are you doing?"

"Shaving; my face was starting to itch," I answered. "Would've done it last night, but we were both busy, remember? Ow." I grinned at my own remark and ended up cutting myself. I could see in the mirror Sarah was trying to keep her face in a mildly annoyed state. "Give me a few extra minutes. You're a woman; wasting time is in your genes. You can do something until I'm done." I got a light smack in the back of the head for that.

"Men," Sarah snorted. "You got five minutes, and then we're leaving. Got it?"

"Yes, dear," I playfully said and continued shaving. I saw Sarah roll her eyes and duck into one of the stalls behind me. "Eager to get to the Capital?" I asked.

"Yeah," she called back. "This is fun and all, but I'll feel a lot safer around other people." Unlike me, Sarah did see being around people as a necessary annoyance. "The Capital's special anyway; they probably have the city and everything within a hundred miles in lockdown. Just getting close should mean we're safe, even from Lazuria."

"Yeah." The Capital was a pretty damn important place. Even if they let the country go to shit, they'd keep that place sparkling clean. Sarah flushed the toilet and came out of the stall to sit on the sink next to me. I finished shaving and was drying my face. "Only another four hundred miles or so to go." We probably would have to find more fuel at an airport or somewhere, but we'd manage.

"Are you finally ready to go?" Sarah asked while she scrubbed her hands. My face didn't feel itchy anymore, that was for sure. I leaned back and stared at Sarah; she was a lot prettier than I usually noticed, but I noticed her pants beginning to sag slightly from the couple of pounds she'd lost.

"No." She knew where I was going before I did. "We can't even spare those thirty seconds." She dried her hands.

"Ouch," I winced. "Talk about below the belt." I wasn't really mad, but I knew the signal to 'no more hold ups' as good as if it had been a blinking sign. "All right then, let's go." We both started walking outside to where the helicopter was. I hung back, part of me still focusing on what I'd noticed and how I could see the rim of… When I realized what I was doing I shook my head.

"Man. A few days on my own and my mind's in the gutter."

"No. Your mind is _always_ in the gutter," Sarah corrected me. "You just don't have to hide it anymore."

"Part of that is your fault," I grinned as we got into the parking lot. A few dozen cars were still there, all in a pile after crashing into each other. We found a spot near the middle where the helicopter now sat. Other than that, it was deserted. The only sound we heard was the blowing of the wind. It was pretty damn creepy, which is why we stopped talking and kept a hand near our side arms as we walked across the flat ground. There wasn't even the feeling of being watched you usually felt in horror movies; it was completely deserted out here. You'd think there would at least be something or someone here. If the utilities survived, some people did, too. And I didn't believe for a second that they'd all killed each other or gone up and left. But, when you eliminated both possibilities, what was left?

I'd hung the backpack I had on the nose cannon, and slung it over my shoulder as I passed. We walked around the helicopter a few times to make sure it hadn't been touched overnight. It was just as we'd left it. Yeah, there was no one else around here for miles.

"We just got to keep our fingers crossed and hope that we'll find an airport," I said as I lifted Sarah up the cockpit before climbing up and strapping myself in. It was a pretty tight space, and the backpacks made it tighter—but I wasn't shrugging off my stockpile of food. No, fuck that; I could accept a sore neck if it meant not starving.

_Talk about a fucked up way to earn a dollar. _That was my first thought as I hit the ignition. I wasn't sure if I'd ever see a dollar again for as long as I lived, but I was certain that after flying for another day or two I'd see the Capital. That was something, and all I had to do was to find it.

X James X

Running—I was running, and I didn't know why. No matter how much I ran I didn't seem to move. Something appeared in the distance, coming at me. It was a tank, the massive tank as before. Panicking, I turned and tried to run, but my feet didn't move. I looked behind me. The tank was getting closer. I tried to keep running, but I never got anywhere. I turned around. The tank was close—too close. Its roar was deafening. I stumbled. I looked right behind me to see the treads just an inch from my face and screamed.

I woke up thrashing around wildly, with a nurse and a medic trying to keep me down. I was in my underwear and soaked in my own sweat. As I stopped struggling and lay there panting, I realized that I was in the back of a moving truck; I could hear the roar of dozens of diesel engines outside the canvas. There was an unconscious soldier on the bench opposite me. This was definitely a military ambulance; was I with the medic company?

"You've been out for nearly forty hours!" The medic informed me. Forty hours… I'd passed out for forty hours and had nightmares about that fucking tank. That was really soldier-like, real macho. I felt disgusted with myself. "Don't blame yourself," the medic went on, "you're not the only one. Hell, half the soldiers in the battalion are having bad nightmares; their nerves are shot too. I can't blame them; I saw how terrifying that thing was." While he was talking I realized how thirsty I was.

"Water," I croaked. He handed me a canteen and I swallowed the entire content, but my throat still felt scratchy. I was too tired to sit up. "Did they figure out what happened?" I realized how weak my voice sounded. Even though I'd asked something, I still felt oddly confused. I could only slightly remember what had happened: we'd been attacked, but the details escaped me.

"Not really." The medic shrugged. The other soldier grunted and the nurse went over to him. "The most popular theory going around is that the tank was a prototype stolen by the raiders. It doesn't explain the suicidal charge, though." I tried to dwell on the thought, but even that seemed impossible in my condition. I tried to say something, but it just came out in a jumble of nonsense words. "Go back to sleep," the medic urged. "You need it." I nodded wearily and closed my eyes. I'd figure it all out later when I was in better shape.

I woke up again a couple of hours later, feeling groggy but not half dead like last time. The truck wasn't moving and I could hear noise outside; we must've stopped and decided to build a camp. I had my wits this time, and after a meal I asked if I could get back to work.

"No." The medic shook his head. "You can go report in to your CO, but we're not clearing you for duty yet." I wanted to object to that. I was awake and I had four working limbs; I could handle myself. Besides, the medics needed to focus their resources on other patients and there were still plenty of people to save. Medics had a certain kind of power over the flow of things with patients; if they said no, then it wasn't happening. I wasn't going to miss a chance to get some fresh air, so I took my uniform back and clambered out of the truck. I was a bit unsteady at first, and had to grip the sides of the truck to keep myself up. After a few practice steps, I felt steady enough to let go. I'd been warned that after thirty minutes they'd come looking for me, so I had to be quick in reporting in. Hopefully, one of the sergeants would come back with me and try to get them to release me; I really wanted to get back to work.

"James!" I heard my name being called before I even made it out of the field hospital. I turned and saw Peter jogging over from one of the tents. It looked for a moment like he was going to hug me, but held off. I realized why when I noticed the blood-stained gloves he was wearing. "Glad to see you're awake," he said. I nodded.

"Yeah. They aren't letting me back on duty yet, but I'm going to go check in with the sergeants. You okay?" He'd been nearby when that tank fired and the sound knocked me out. He couldn't be okay; his face seemed pale, too.

"Yeah, nothing a few aspirins couldn't fix. You know," he informed me, "we're lucky. A few people are suffering from permanent deafness after hearing that thing fire so close. Most of us just got off with temporary deafness. A few people like you passed out from the pain."

"Not surprising," I admitted. Hearing that thing had been like having a knife pierce your skull. "How many casualties did we suffer?" I asked. He sadly shook his head.

"At least a hundred, most of them dead in their vehicles," he replied. "A lot of them are shell-shocked, too."

"Damn," I muttered, "what the hell was that thing?"

"I don't know, but it's gone now, thankfully."

"Yeah." We could be thankful, but it wouldn't bring all those guys back.

"I need to get back to work." Peter jerked a thumb behind him at the large tent he'd come out of. "I'm glad to see you're all right. Go check in with the others. Get some rest if you need it, got it?"

"Got it," I nodded. Satisfied, he turned and jogged back to his post. I headed out into the main camp to try and find one of the sergeants. I noticed something while I was wandering around too: the Battalion was in a city, not the town we'd passed through. What about the factory? Did it exist? My head suddenly flared with pain from all the thinking, so I just forgot about it for the time being.

Someone pointed out to me where the provisional companies were staying, so I headed over. The place seemed strangely quiet. I saw no one else while walking along the rows of tents, even though the rest of the camp had seemed busy. How was I supposed to find the others?

"Jimmy boy?" I halted and turned to look through the space between two tents to the next row. Sam was sitting on the ground with an ice bag on his head. "Finally got up, did you?"

"Yeah." I squeezed through the gap and went to meet him. "You okay?" Like Peter, he seemed pale. And, he was holding the ice pack to his head rather tightly despite the cold weather.

"I got a headache that no alcohol could ever beat," he groaned. "That giant motherfucker was loud. This must be what those guys in the artillery go through. Fuck." He pressed the bag to his head. "Captain gave all the guys that were there some easy time. I can't sleep no matter how bad I want to, you lucky bastard." I didn't take offense; we all suffered up there.

"Where are the sergeants?" I glanced to the tents behind him.

"Sleeping. Everyone's hoping they'll wake up feeling better."

"Oh..." I'd intended to check in, but I wasn't sure anymore. I didn't want to bother them if they were recovering. "They aren't releasing me yet, but they told me I could come check in."

"Go back," Sam waved dismissively. "I'll tell them you came by. They'll understand. All that 'rank-and-file' bullshit is pretty much dead, anyway." There was something about that that disturbed me, but the prospect of going back to rest did sound appealing. Everyone else was resting, so I guess I wouldn't feel guilty if I did the same.

"All right," I nodded. "Thanks."

"No problem." He readjusted his ice bag. "Lucky bastard," he muttered.

I was about to turn and go, but I remembered something. "Hey, what happened to that factory?"

"Fuckers burned it down," Sam snarled. "While we were in an uproar about that giant motherfucking tank, some of their guys went around us and torched it."

"What? Why?" I asked, stunned. So we _had_ been close to it all along...

"I don't know," Sam growled, "but I hope we put enough of them in the ground for them to realize not to screw with us."

"...Damn." I shook my head. What was wrong with the world? "So, what now?"

"Word around the camp is that there's another one, actually," Sam replied. "Straight from the Captain's mouth, although we were all sleeping when he said that to everyone else. We're heading there now."

"_Another one?_" I asked. One sounded unbelievable enough, but two? The situation grew more unbelievable by the day.

"Yeah." Sam pushed himself up, wincing. "Go get some rest, man." He pounded me on the shoulder. "Odds are there'll be another shit storm there, and we always gotta be ready, you know?" Sam was right. In this world, resources were valuable—even more so after the meteors. The raiders existed because they steal resources. That mysterious enemy had attacked to destroy our resources. If this second place existed, odds were someone would try and keep us out of it.

"Right." Whoever it was—raiders or not—I wasn't going to let them succeed.

X Tim X

_The landscape never ends_, I thought with annoyance. I'd only been to three places in my life worth remembering: The orphanage—a bland concrete prison in the middle of a city—the Nellis Air Force Training Center, and the base where we spent the last decade—a place where at least stuff happened. Out here it was bland, red, and dead. Who knew how much unused land was there in the country?

There wasn't any way to make it less boring, either. There were only so many topics you can discuss, funny memories to bring up, or things to consider before you've heard everything. For us, all those lists were checked through pretty quickly since our past was entirely crossed out. This trip was getting boring fast, and a little creepy from the silence. I was getting on edge; more than I'd care to admit.

"Restless?" Sarah inquired. Damn, how the hell did she always know? I didn't have anyone or anything else to take my irritation out on.

"Eh, I guess. It's funny; I always hated other people, and yet here I am missing them." Where was the sense in that? Sarah was silent for a moment.

"I wonder if the others are dead yet?" Okay, that was one subject we hadn't discussed yet. Why? I wasn't sure. The subject didn't particularly bother me, and I could make a pretty good assumption about it.

"Who knows? They've probably all been shot down." With Waylon in charge, who knows where else they could've been? If the Old Man hadn't taken charge even after that last incident, he probably never would. Sarah seemed deep in thought, if her silence was anything to go by. "Something bothering you?" I asked.

"Just wondering," she shrugged, "'bout Kim and Stone and the others. Do you really think Stone wasn't doing anything? Not that I regret it," she added, "but even if he was, he wasn't fast enough."

"Who knows what goes on in his head? He barely speaks about anything except order and combat." He was a real serious, by-the-books guy. We sure as hell didn't need that right now. Still... Before I could finish that thought, Sarah changed the subject.

"I wonder how Kim is doing." Sarah's voice was quieter.

"Ah, hell," I muttered. Regardless of the situation, the two of them were like sisters. Kim was the only girl I'd ever seen Sarah get along with, seeing as most the other girls in the orphanage were pretty much just a bunch of bitches and whores. Sarah generally avoided getting too close to the other girls 'cause they might notice her 'issue'. But somehow, and despite a ton of other differences, the two had become close. Hell, the kid had grown on me too, although I wasn't sure why. She was naïve and annoying... but always friendly. I think that might've been the only reason. Usually one 'fuck off' got people to leave me alone. Not her though; she was always chippier and talkative. Besides, Sarah was happy because of her, and that made me a lot more tolerate. I hadn't thought of them till now.

"Eh..." I painted an ugly picture in my head. The fact was Kim was a girl—a pretty one, I supposed, not that I ever bothered checking. And she was with a group of guys, and the only ones who probably cared about her well being were weak or old—same thing really. _You're imagining her half-naked and tied down to a table, that's why._ Sarah had to be thinking the same, but I never pointed it out to her. "She isn't in a good situation," I admitted, "but too late—they had a chance."

"Real shame none of them decided to come with us." Sarah shook her head. No matter how she felt, she would never stay with them. Rule Number One to us: Look out for your own ass first. Still… I would probably wonder about them sometime in the distant future, after we got to the Capital.

"Well, the current situation calls for us to put ourselves forward first," I said. Until we got to the Capital, we were in a tight spot. No guaranteed food, water, or shelter—that was important at the moment. The others were and always would be just some unanswered question kicking up dust in the back of our minds.

A few minutes passed when suddenly the radio became alive with noise, although it was nothing coherent at first. As quiet as things had been earlier, it really made me jump to suddenly hear so much noise. I pulled the stick back and let the helicopter hover. "Are we on an open channel?" I asked. Sarah nodded and tried for a response.

"Let me see: does anyone copy?" Nothing but static. "Keep going forward," she told me. I banked the helicopter forward a little, turning it left and right. The signal seemed stronger to the right. "Head toward that direction: I'll try and establish contact."

"What if they're Lazurians?" I asked. If we flew right into those bastards, we'd be grounded before we could blink.

"We're fairly far inland, their weapons or troops might not have gotten this far yet," Sarah replied. I guess that made sense. Besides, an enemy would keep their radio traffic a little less noticeable.

"Good point…" I mused. "All right, but keep weapon systems on, just in case." I put more power to the engines and flew in that direction. After a few minutes, the annoying garble the radio was emitting turned into clearly accented voices, although the only thing we saw was barren land below us. There was a whole lot of chatter mixed up and we only understood parts of it.

"Can we get a water truck over here?"

"Keep that damn machine outta the way!"

"Can we redeploy a Sheridan by the post office?"

"Sheridan? Isn't that an Army tank?" I asked as we listened in to the babble on the radio. The accents sounded similar, but that just meant they were Rubinelle. If they were the Army, that could mean a whole lot of things.

"Yeah, these are our people all right," Sarah nodded. Though the outline was faint, we could just barely see the outline of a town in the distance. I wonder if they had any food.

"I'll take her in, you try to make contact," I said. My mind was in full gear. If these guys were heading in the same direction, we could just hitch a ride with them. Maybe they'd have supplies to share too. If they were out here fighting Lazurians, they wouldn't say no to us either; the Army loved attack helicopters.

"Got it," Sarah replied. I banked the helicopter forward and proceeded towards the city. Sarah then opened our transmitter and said, "This is Killjoy-Three of the Rubinelle Air Force, do any other units copy?" All radio traffic went silent almost immediately. That couldn't be good. I pulled back on the stick so that we weren't going so fast. Wasn't much point in making allies if they shot us down, right? Sarah again tried to contact them while I looked out the cockpit as we flew over the town.

Yep, this was definitely the Army. As we flew in a lazy circle a few hundred feet above the town I could see a lot of stuff below: tanks, jeeps, and all that shit. A couple of soldiers were staring up at us. I also noticed, to my surprise, what looked like civilians. One of them was pointing a rifle at us. I scowled. What the fuck was their problem? Why were they there, anyway?

"Unidentified aircraft, repeat your identification." A voice finally responded on the radio.

"This is Killjoy-Three of the Rubinelle Air Force, copy," Sarah replied. Another moment of silence passed.

"Killjoy-Three, we are setting smoke in a nearby parking lot; land there."

"Killjoy-Three copies. Out. So much for rolling out the red carpet," she muttered that last bit. I had to agree; they seemed kind of jumpy.

"Well, maybe the Lazurians found them and they're on the edge?" I suggested. Sarah didn't reply. We looked around and saw a pillar of blue smoke nearby. I carefully took the helicopter over and prepared to land. As we began to descend, I noticed a tank and a few jeeps parked below with a mob of soldiers. Talk about a warm welcome. I set the helicopter down and killed the engine before glancing out. None of them were aiming for us, at least. As usual, I climbed out first and caught Sarah as she came down.

"RAF?" One of the grunts called. It wasn't a question; it was a demand. He was walking towards us with about four other soldiers behind him, their hands on their rifles. It didn't scare me; I'd been threatened with a firearm plenty of times. I helped Sarah down and walked to meet him.

"Yeah. I have to say, though, you grunts know how to throw a welcome party." I glanced at the guys behind the tank, whose engine was clearly running. I pulled off my helmet. "Never seen a helicopter before?" They seemed to relax some.

"Not in the past few weeks," the one who had called to us answered as approached. I wasn't an expert on ranks of the other branches, but I was pretty sure he was an officer. "Hard to tell who's on your side, especially now." Yeah, these guys must've gone against Lazuria more than once. Shit, I hadn't expected to see any forces till we got closer to the Capital.

"Well, might as well stick with the guys who can keep us alive." I shrugged and stuck out a hand.

"Yeah, you flyboys never could do anything yourselves. We're a bit low on comfy beds and air-conditioning, though." I laughed while he shook my hand. I actually liked Army grunts and Marines; I met a few during some Joint Training Exercises (about as exciting as anything ever got where we'd been) and they were my type of people: straight-to-the-point, no bullshit people. If I wasn't comfortable at our old post, I would've actually considered a transfer.

"Well, that's why we're here," Sarah cut in. "We've been on our own for a while."

"Lucky that you stumbled across the one unit still operating in the region," the Army officer said as he shook her hand too. "I guess we're just as lucky you found us." Like his men behind him, he looked past us, at the helicopter. "I guess you'll have to speak to our CO, then." He turned and reached for his radio.

"Like they're going to turn us down," I snorted. The Army officer glanced at us but was too busy talking to pay us attention.

"Yes sir. Understood." He put it down and turned back to us. "The Captain wants to meet you. My platoon will guard the helicopter." He said that last sentence into his radio, and all the soldiers gathered near the parking lot spread out. "Follow me, please." He led us back to one of the Humvees parked there. I'd seen plenty of them driven by Base Security back at our old post, but they were always clean. This one was dirty and damaged; it'd seen some action. _Hell, we could get into some good honest-to-god fighting, _I thought with a grin. No more overwhelmed retreat bullshit.

"Private," the officer barked to one of his men who quickly ran to the Humvee and held the back door open for us. The inside was cramped, but it was better than walking. My only complaint is that Sarah and I ended up separated by the middle where the gunner would've stood. The officer climbed into the front passenger seat and his guy into the driver seat. "Take us to HQ," he ordered.

"Yes sir." The grunt started up the Humvee and drove us out of the lot. I'd only gotten a bird's-eye view from the helicopter. Down here though, it looked a hell of a lot different. This was a small town; the streets were pretty narrow, but they had tanks, trucks, and a whole lot of other vehicles I didn't recognize parked everywhere. The Humvee had to squeeze through a few gaps. Then there were a lot of soldiers, all of them running to and from the buildings. Some empty lots had tents set up in them. Again, I didn't know anything about the Army, but there had to be a few hundred guys here. We passed a field with a ton of tents set up and people standing outside them. Not soldiers, just regular people. It made me stare for a little while, but I shrugged it off; Army probably kicked them out of their houses so they could use them.

Then I saw more of them—with guns, and being drilled by actual Army people. That made us lean over and stare. We'd seen that one civilian before, but were there this many? "Refugees," the officer explained. "Packed their stuff and came with us. We're training them to help maintain security in the rear while the regular forces are at the front." Those people? Aside from the fact they looked anywhere from fifteen to sixty, I'd never seen a more random collection of guns. They were going to make a fighting unit out of that?

"They won't last a minute if Lazuria finds you guys again." Both the driver and the passenger looked back at us. Actually, it was more like they spun around.

"What do you mean the Lazurians?" The officer asked, immediately suspicious.

"Uh, the people that attacked us, the same people who have been hunting us down for two weeks." Were these people stupid? "Does anyone know what weapon they used to screw the sky up?"

"Wait, wait." The driver stopped for a minute and turned around. "The Lazurians attacked you? They're on our soil?" I just stared stupidly back at him. They didn't know? Then what the fuck had they been doing this last few weeks?

"…Something is very wrong here." Sarah said. The soldiers exchanged glances.

"As if things couldn't get any fucking worse," the driver said. "Sir," he added quickly. I don't know why, but I felt stupid for some reason. I fought it off with a scowl. We simply kept quiet and glanced at each other for the next few minutes until the jeep stopped outside a large tent set up in the middle of the road. There were a few more Humvees and a ton of soldiers standing guard outside.

"This is the place," the officer remarked and stepped out. We both climbed out and followed him into the tent. Once I got in, I had to say the place looked organized; there were radios and maps laid out on tables in the tent, and there was a guy in a tan jacket staring at a map. He was old, nearly as much as Stone, and had blond hair that I swear was going gray. He looked up as we entered and, eyeing our uniforms with interest, walked over to where we were.

"Captain Brenner," the soldier said, "these are two attack helicopter pilots; they just landed here." The Captain nodded at the soldier and extended his hand to both of us, which we shook. It was time to get some answers.

"Sir." I raised my hand in a salute. Like I said, I had a bit more appreciation for these guys over other branches.

"I'm Captain Brenner, commanding officer of the 12th Battalion." 12th Battalion? Now, where had I heard that before? It sounded kind of familiar. "I must say, we haven't seen any members of the Air Force yet."

"Yeah, well, we've come a long way," Sarah answered.

"I imagine the meteors made it more difficult, but all soldiers are adaptive, right?" We didn't answer. Instead, we both gawked at him.

"Meteors? Wait, back up old man, what do you mean meteors?" I asked, slipping back into old habits. Was this supposed to be a joke or something? Meteors? What about the Lazurians?

"The meteors that destroyed the world," a female voice said. We both turned around. A woman walked into the tent, followed by two armed soldiers. She was actually pretty hot, wearing a shirt that exposed her stomach. The glare she had on her face killed it, though. I wonder if her face got stuck like that as a kid.

"This is my executive officer, Lieutenant Lin," Captain Brenner said by way of an introduction. "Lin, these are two RAF helicopter pilots. They just got here." She paced around us, staring at us—or rather, our uniforms.

"77th Attack Helicopter Squadron," she commented. "Weren't you stationed closer to the coast?" It wasn't even a question. How the hell did she know that? Even our own branch probably forgot we existed.

"Uh, yeah." Sarah glanced at me. "But, we're the only ones alive." She shifted as she said that. It was the truth as far as I was concerned. The others were probably dead already.

"Lin, care to explain?" Captain Brenner asked.

"Meteors struck the planet; the shockwaves were what caused the damage. Ash was thrown into the sky and blocked the sunlight; that is why the sky is red. The resulting weather is killing off all livestock and plants. Humans have been gathering—

"Wait, wait, WAIT." I put my hand up to silence her, which seemed to greatly annoy her. "So this whole mess was natural?" What the hell? What about the Lazurians? When they both nodded, Sarah blurted out what I was thinking.

"But what about the Lazurians, we thought they attacked? Why else would they be here?" They both looked up at us and then at each other.

"Explain," Lieutenant Lin said.

"You think we were the only ones who survived these meteors or whatever?" I shrugged. "No, we were the only ones who didn't get shot down by the Lazurians that started hunting us." They both stared at us. The lieutenant still had the same expression on her face. Captain Brenner looked extremely worried.

"We need all the details," the lieutenant said, "now."

Four hours later, after providing a detailed chronicle of where we'd started and how we got here, what forces we'd faced, and the places where we'd been, they finally let us go. That lieutenant had done most of the questioning, and she was a real goddamn ball breaker. We hadn't even got any breaks.

"Man, I need to piss like a race horse," I complained when they finally let us go.

"Same." Sarah was fidgeting. I always hated briefing sections and all that. And now I hated them more. Those two had kept us there for hours, making us point out positions and areas on maps and tally numbers on the troops we'd seen. I even mentioned what we'd heard about the Capital (though I couldn't remember the name of the guy who'd sent the message), but for some reason they didn't take too much of an interest in that. I wondered why…

After that, they shared their own story. In the past few hours, my world had been flipped the fuck over. The Lazurians never destroyed the country, which meant we might've caused an international incident, which was a great fucking way to end a day. And things were fucked up way beyond repair now, especially food. But that wasn't the end of it; they had made us an offer.

The civilians and all the other people, they were part of the unit. The whole battalion was just a bunch of survivors traveling to help other survivors. They were heading for some shelter with a food factory of something. They could live there without worry of running out of supplies. And they'd asked us to join them.

"The air support would be a great help to our efforts," Captain Brenner had said. Search and rescue? We flew a goddamn attack chopper. When we pointed this out, we received some other information.

"There had been hostile engagements from rouge units or bandits," Lieutenant Lin added. "Fire support from a helicopter would be a great advantage." And so we were offered food, shelter, and survival if we went along. And there might be a chance to satisfy some blood lust. Plus, the people were a lot more bearable then those pricks we'd been with.

It was that, or we could just keep on heading to the Capital.

They didn't want an answer then and there, fortunately. Captain Brenner had offered to let us rest for a bit and then answer. Even better, they'd let us bunk together, and near our helicopter. That was actually pretty neat, 'cause I was sure there were other officers out there who would've just threatened us into joining. But, after showing us around a bit so we knew where everyone and everything was, we were led back to the lot where they'd set up a tent right by the helicopter. Some soldiers and vehicles had moved so they were guarding the parking lot, including one of those anti-air tanks they had. Made me feel safer than I ever had before, that was for sure.

"Man, what a day." They only had these narrow cots and one blanket for each of us, but it still looked comfortable as hell, so I flopped down on it and rubbed my face.

"A fucked up day," Sarah corrected, standing near the tent entrance and glancing out. "It changes everything."

"No kidding." I tried thinking of everything this meant on the walk over, but it just ended up giving me a headache. But, you couldn't really go and say things were simply fucked; there was a lot of shit for us to consider. "I think we can stop worrying about those Lazurians we killed. It was under orders, so we're spared, aren't we?"

"I guess." Sarah didn't consider that too pressing an issue. There was a war going on, undeclared or not. No one was going to accuse us of war crimes for defending ourselves. It wasn't important, anyway. "They made an interesting offer." She walked over and sat on my legs; these cots weren't wide enough for two people.

"Yeah. I don't think we've ever had options before." I scratched my head. "Nope, we've always been forced along one route or another."

"Well," Sarah spelled it, "we can keep going to the Capital, join the fighting that is surely going on, and get an early grave like we always aspired. Or, we can stay with these guys and join this city they're talking about founding."

"A city?" I asked. They hadn't presented it like that. But with shelter and a food source, I guess it could be counted as one. "Uh..." I couldn't get past the first step in that path. The other plan was much complete. The other one? What happened after we got to this city? I yawned. "Fuck, I'm tired. They gave us a chance to rest, I say we take it. We can worry about it for another time."

"All right." Sarah was yawning too. "Good night." She shifted sideways and laid down right on top of me. She was asleep in seconds, but I had to take a few more minutes to get used to her weight.

"Thinking in one minute, out in another," I snorted. She didn't hear me. Hell, she looked like she was thinking hard about this since we left the command tent. About what, I wasn't sure. But, she seemed to realize more than I did how serious this was. I'd think about it more, but I was getting tired too. I'd give all of this some more thought tomorrow; things wouldn't go to shit while we slept after all.

A few minutes of silence passed, and in that brief period of time I wondered if it would have been better if we had been killed instead.

X A forest within Rubinelle, a hundred miles away from the 12th Battalion. X

Bleak, death, and misery were the best three words to describe the raider's camp. Men cradling injured limbs sat hunched up against trees or the group's only remaining tank. Others suffering from more serious injuries were hardly cared for. Out in the forest lie the bodies of the wounded too weak to keep going and that no one had cared about. In a clearing, a raider missing much of the lower half of his body moaned in agony and begged for help. No one responded. After another five minutes of agony another raider withdrew his pistol from his holster, handed it to the wounded man, and turned his head when the gunshot went off. He silently took his pistol back and buried his face in his arms. The air of depression hung around the entire camp, except for one part.

A large man in his early thirties paced around, fuming. He was a large man, shirtless and with long black hair that hung over his wild-looking eyes. He stumbled slightly from a gunshot wound he had received in the leg. The reminder only made him madder. This man was the leader of the raiders: The Beast. And right now, The Beast was pissed.

"Someone get me some medicine!" He roared with fury. He couldn't believe one of those lousy do-gooders had hit him. What was dogface's problem? It's not like anyone cared about life anymore!

"It's not that easy, sir," one of the few able-bodied raiders said uneasily. "We're low on fuel and ammo. Most of our weapons were destroyed in the last battle, so…" He trailed off uncertainly. This only angered his leader.

"You're THIS close from dying, boy!" The Beast grabbed the raider and lifted him clear in the air. "Now, whatever you need, you steal, UNDERSTAND?" He screamed the last part. The spit-covered raider scrambled away. "I can't believe those soldier boys actually hit me!" The Beast raged, not that it mattered. He was invincible! He was a leader!

None of the raiders within the camp paid much attention to their surroundings. No one seemed to notice a man slipping through the trees towards the camp. This man was something rare to see in this new world: a scientist. Beneath a head of white hair was a pale face frozen in what would have appeared to be a sarcastic smile. A white lab coat billowed behind him in the soft wind, hiding most of his unnaturally pale skin. This scientist's name was Caulder. And at the moment, he was setting into motion another experiment.

He simply walked right into the camp, as the raiders watched in fascination at the man who so openly braved such a group.

"Hey!" One of the remaining uninjured raiders called. "Who the fuck are you?" Caulder did not reply; instead, he just kept walking forward. He walked straight into the middle of the camp and behind to where The Beast was ranting at a group of scared raiders.

"Do you truly harbor such hatred for Captain Brenner?" The words rolled off from Caulder's tongue in an uninterested tone. The Beast spun around, eyes wide.

"Hey!" His voice faltered slightly. "Wh—where did you come from, you freakin ghost?" Despite Caulder clearly being smaller, something about him was unsettling to even The Beast.

"My dear sergeant…" Caulder paused. "Wait, you have no name now, do you? You're just The Beast. How appropriate," Caulder muttered the last part to himself. The Beast still looked unsure, so Caulder continued.

"Your propensity for violence saw you expelled from the military, yes?" Caulder directly quoted the file he had read. "And these past few years, you've spent each day slaking your thirst for blood and mayhem."

"B—but… How do you…" The Beast was clearly unsettled.

"All in good time, my friend," Caulder cut him off. "When the meteors came, you knew just what to do, don't you? You stole weapons and access codes, and then began plundering whatever you could find. For most, the world was a living hell, but for a man like you, it was paradise." Caulder could see he was beginning to get into The Beast's head. At least," Caulder hit the nail of the head, "until Captain Brenner and his good Samaritans arrived." Just as Caulder had predicted, the mere mention of his name threw The Beast into a rage.

"GYAAARRR!" He roared. "I hate him! He ruined everything! When I find him, I'm gonna rip—"Caulder cut his ramblings short.

"You will have your vengeance. I will provide you supplies and weapons," Caulder told him. The rest of the camp perked their ears up. "You desire chaos and destruction, yes? I shall see you are equipped to sate that desire." Caulder watched as The Beast's scowl turned into an evil smile. He began laughing.

"Get up roaches! We have some work to do!" Caulder seemed to smile; this man was too stupid to ask questions.

"It'll take a few days for the equipment to arrive, but I assure you sir, you'll have a lot of fun with it…"


	13. A Kind of Home I

X With James X

After practically begging the medic, and then having to request Anderson for help ('Battle fatigue? You're fine!'), I was back to my duties. I was indeed feeling better after such a long sleep, which Anderson clearly saw. And now I had my rifle back. In all honesty, I was a bit groggy, but that was to be expected. There were still people that needed protection and rescue.

Another interesting thing had happened yesterday: a helicopter showed up. It had originally scared everyone, considering what had just happened. But these pilots came in peace. I hadn't actually seen them yet, though from what I heard they weren't the stereotypical 'bragging how I'm better then you' type of people. I also heard one had a bad temper. I'd seen the helicopter though when it had been loaded on a commandeered truck. Slick, shiny, and deadly.

"That thing will fuck up anyone who messes with us." Sam had said. I had to agree; the raiders were too stupid (most of them were anyway), to wage effective warfare, let alone anti-air warfare.

The excitement of the previous day gone, it was a new day and time to move out. Sam waved from the doorway of the Humvee. He had a bandage wrapped around his forehead. Peter had explained Sam had hit his head on the interior of the Humvee when he jerked up violently after a bad dream. The whole Battalion was having bad dreams.

"You got your gun back, huh? You sure you're okay?" He asked.

"I just slept for 40 hours, of course I'm fine." I snapped back. I paused for a moment. "Thanks for asking though."

"No problem man, I'll take the gun this time." He ducked back in.

"How bad of a head bruise did he get?" I whispered the Peter.

"Not sure it's the head injury." Peter shrugged. "He's been acting all happy since yesterday, before the injury. Polishing his gun, fixing it, all that jazz."

"That's…un-Sam-ish." I commented.

"Who knows, maybe he had a revelation?" Peter looked up again. "He ain't that bad a guy really."

"Yeah." I agreed. Back at the base, Sam had that bad reputation. Though he had proven recently he was actually very competent.

"Bout time you boys got here!" Anderson came up behind us, putting his great hands on our shoulders. "Mount up, we're moving out in 5 minutes!" So we moving off again, away to some secret base that I still had doubts even existed.

X With Tim X

"Careful with that." I called to the engineers. Fucking idiots. One of them shrugged.

"Sorry sir, we load tanks usually, not helicopters." He tightened another one of the ropes. It was a flatbed semi truck, which was going transport the helicopter since apparently fuel was a big issue with these people. I really didn't want to ride in a cage for hours on end.

"Here, hold this." Sarah threw a bag at my head and wordlessly stood beside me. It was just some necessary items and toiletries that had been scraped together for us. Another issue with staying with these people: they were always on the move. With the air force, you operated from a comfortable base with all the necessities. Here, you lived as close the ground as possible. You slept on the ground; you saw nothing but the ground. There were next to no comforts. If you had to go to the bathroom, you went on the side of the road. I wasn't being a little bitch; I could live with rough conditions. These were just a little too rough. The shelter they had mentioned sounded good, but we weren't the type to sit around on our asses all day. It was all too complicated.

"Sir. Ma'am." We both turned to see a soldier standing behind us with a clipboard in hand. That was another perk of flying an attack helicopter; watching the enemy cower was always fun, but the ground forces you were supporting treated you like a god. It was a lot better. Now if only we could actually get some food that wasn't canned…

"Yeah, what?" I snapped. We wouldn't complain, we'd stay tough, even if we were worried. These guys could smell fear.

"Traveling arrangements are…a bit complicated as you can imagine." The soldier stared at the clipboard. "Any preferences?"

"Yeah, somewhere together." Sarah said firmly. The soldier raised an eyebrow.

"Hey buddy, if you don't like it, kiss my ass." I said firmly. He laughed.

"Rules are really the only thing left." He shook his head. Ah, guilt trip. I wasn't falling for it!

"Disasters make people closer, don't they?" Sarah said.

"Clever girl." The marine commented. "Just be wary; the other soldiers will be lonely and jealous." He grinned. "I don't suppose you'll want a seat with the civilians?"

"Fuck no." I shook my head. I didn't want to be surrounded by a bunch of idiots asking stupid questions.

"We'd prefer some people a little more…relatable." Sarah shrugged.

"Hmm…" The marine looked over the list. "I think I know a good place."

X With James, several minutes later X

The convoy began slowing crawling its way out a town, much like a funeral procession. I reflected sadly that it might as well been one. Anderson spun the wheel around and we pulled behind a Sheridan and followed it out of town. In the next few minutes, the rest of the convoy followed and we were on our way. These trips were always a long period of boredom in which unpleasant ideas found their way into your head. The latter was possibility was aided when Sam popped his head down from the gunner position.

"You guys hear the rumors?" He asked. He was excited; there was a wild gleam in his eyes.

"What rumors?" I asked.

"You're acting a bit weird man." Peter said.

"The rumors about the Lazurians!" Sam said. Anderson and Anson turned around in their seat and we just gawked. Lazurians…For a moment it was as if I'd forgotten the term, then in came to me. Lazuria. Our enemy.

"Blue bastards?" Anderson turned back forward. His voice was different.

"Does this have something to do with the Lazurian military?" Anson demanded. Sam nodded eagerly. I felt something in my stomach drop. This feeling was accompanied by confusion. Lazuria, what could they want? We were busy helping our own people after the disaster, shouldn't they be doing the same? I wasn't sure I could help these people AND fight a conventional battle. But if for any reason we entered a conventional battle like back at the hill, I could easily fight.

"Yeah, yeah. Those helicopter pilots- their group got hunted down when they were flying out." These words were met with silence as everyone tried to come up with a response.

"Is this information reliable?" Anson asked.

"Why would they lie?" Sam shrugged.

"But why would the Lazurians be here?" I asked, failing to prevent my voice was rising. I scratched the back of my head awkwardly. Again, real macho.

"I get where you're coming from private." Anderson said. "With these civilians here, we ain't really in condition to fight effectively."

"It is against the rules of engagement to attack a sanctuary." Anson reminded us. Did we even count as a sanctuary?

"If they do show up, we can kick their ass no problem." Sam stood back up to man the gun. Anderson looked at Sam's feet then at us. We shrugged.

"Interesting." Anderson murmured just loud enough to be heard. I sat there confused. I honestly had forgotten about Lazuria or the rest of the world for the last few days; it had simply been eclipsed by what was going on now. I wondered what all this would do in the long term…Then I reminded myself: they were just rumors. Rumors weren't usually true, right?

X With Tim X

As it turns out, this was more boring then I had originally thought. How great.

"Do you always have a scowl on you face?" I opened an eye to see a marine looking at me with a disinterested gaze.

"Well, you don't stop frowning either." I shot back. He gave a light laugh. The conditions sucked, but I was beginning to like these people more and more.

"Not like there's any reason to smile anyway." Another marine commented. The truck hit another bump. Apparently this was one of the only trucks that still carried active soldiers. More of the civilians were using regular cars. That was still an odd ball. They found it normal. Search and rescue still wasn't my thing. They had all regarded Sarah with a more curious manner. Even with efforts by the government, the military was still mostly men. And most the women anyway held more management positions then actual combat positions. Though her and me had made it very clear we were together, so they didn't do anything more then stare.

"So are you two staying?" One of them asked. They all watched for an answer.

"Not sure." Sarah admitted.

"We're not really into the whole 'hero' and 'rescuer' thing." I explained. "A attack helicopter doesn't really have more then one purpose. Besides, we weren't really trained to live like this."

"The civilians have no trouble with it." One of the leathernecks pointed out. Some of them snickered. I held back a sharp reply as he continued. "But there is still a lot of fighting for thrill seekers like yourself. In crisis, most people turn on each other."

"Everyone keeps mentioning raiders or something?" Sarah inquired.

"Rouge units and regular criminals." The marine explained. "They steal weapons and terrorize the survivors. We've been fighting them for ages." The marines hung their heads down. "There's a lot of graves behind us because of them." I was unsure about what to say at this point.

"Even if that group is finished, there will still be more. Every life counts now, especially soldiers." Another chipped in.

"They're too stupid to counter air power, they haven't even got AA weaponry!"

"A helicopter would really reduce casualties."

"It'd be a guardian angel."

"Ah hell." I muttered, scratching the back of my head. Again, I didn't really like the prospect of staying, but their guilt card was working. We had left the others to fate, but they were stupid and going the entirely wrong direction. These people, these soldiers, they were different. They were serious. And I guessed they were doing a serious purpose. Still, we always thought of ourselves first. First and always, I told myself.

"You people would be treated like royalty, I'm sure your use to that." One of them said.

"Hey, fuck you buddy." I retorted.

"Just saying." He put his hands up in defense. Maybe choosing to ride with these people had been a bad idea.

"We don't know; this isn't exactly a good place." Sarah shrugged.

"Well, it's your only option besides going out on your own." The marine shrugged back. "You want to get yourself killed, we won't stop you." Didn't they get a transmission about the capital? As Sarah opened her mouth to probably ask that very question, the marine squad leader abruptly changed the subject.

"You both said you encountered members of the Lazurian military?" He looked at us questioningly. The rest of them looked at us eagerly.

"I take it you didn't know they were doing a campaign then?" Sarah said. They shook their head.

"We figured they'd be helping their own people instead of tormenting us."

"Ah, what do you expect? Even if they didn't cause this, they're still a bunch of aggressive bastards." I said.

"Yeah, we thought it was them at first as well." The squad leader admitted. "But you have a point. They're all stupid."

"Well, we ran into the air force, army, AND navy." I said, not stopping a hint of smugness from my voice. "Escaped with our lives every time and inflicted plenty of casualties." They looked impressed.

"They usually use numbers to their advantage. But they lost that advantage just as much we did." Sarah nodded.

"Well, if they're stupid enough to approach us, we'll send em packing. Hooah?"

"Hooah!" The rest of the truck echoed.

X With James, several hours later X

I'd managed to take a short nap during the trip. It was a useful skill for soldiers; getting sleep at every given possibility. We hadn't found a town, so we had just set up beside the highway. Even though we were apparently heading back the way we came now, nothing seemed familiar. We must've been taking a shortcut.

Before, camp was usually set up in a organized structure: Combat units on the outskirts and the civilians in the middle. Light recon patrols were always set out. The Captain seemed to take the rumor to heart, because today, things were a bit more organized. AA was evening spread out all around; tanks as well. All our artillery were said to be armed and on stand by, and patrols had been beefed up. We were on one such patrol.

The Humvee rolled along steady. Two more drove beside us. Somewhere behind, a Sheridan threw up a cloud of dust. I could sense Sam was tense. hell, I was jumpy myself. I wasn't sure why; the odds of us running into Lazurian troops was low, wasn't it? But it was a possibility, so we were ready. I kept a tight grip on my rifle and stared intently out the window. There was a large lake nearby, but that was about it. We drove on for another few minutes, alert as ever. This whole thing was playing with our nerves. And it was just a rumor!

One of the Humvees beside us skidded to a stop abruptly. Anderson smashed on the breaks as well.

"I think I see something in the sky!" One of them reported over the radio. They all poured out of the Humvee. We quickly clambered out to get a better looks. The sky? What could it be? Planes? Or more meteors? We stared. The puffy white clouds shifted, as if disturbed them. A gentle roaring reached our years. And then, suddenly, two shapes burst out the clouds. They were planes, speeding quickly on. Two more burst out of the clouds behind them. Something streaked through the air and collided with one of the other jets, exploding in a violent fireball. The jet fell towards the earth in a plume of black smoke..

"Those are Lazurian MiGs!" Anderson shouted. "And that was one of our F-15s!"

"Shit!" Another soldier ducked back in to grab the radio. We watched as the planes again disappeared into the clouds. "We're out of range! Can't get a signal!" The soldier reported. Uh oh. The squad quickly piled back in to the Humvee.

"We'll drive back and alert the camp, you all go rescue that downed pilot!" The team leader called before the Humvee raced off.

"Mount up!" Anderson ordered. We all piled back into our own Humvee. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, and I firmly shut them out. This was now a combat situation. We raced off behind the other Humvee to where the jet had gone down. The tank soon vanished behind us. It would catch up. So the rumors were true: they were hunting down air force remnants.

"If I aim this thing up, will it hit the planes?" Sam called. I could almost picture him aiming the squad gun up.

"No." Anderson replied as if were the stupidest question in the world. "So don't go wasting ammo! I want all of you to stay on your toes. If we're going to rescue the pilot, odds are the enemy is seeking to capture him as well."

X With Tim X

As it turned out, these people could erect a full and well defended camp in a mere hour. It was interesting to watch, but now I was bored out of my mind. To pass the time, we talked about the issue at hand.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I could actually live with these people without killing them." I said.

"Maybe we should've joined the army air wing instead." Sarah shrugged. "Perfect chance to start over."

"So you want to stay?" I asked.

"Do you? I'm not entirely sure." She confessed. Standing up to stretch. "On one hand, we need the support to survive, but on the other, we don't exactly enjoy nomadic lifestyles. Plus I'm beginning to have doubts this shelter exists."

"Hmm, a secret shelter meant to save the Asses of the big bosses of the country whiles the rest of the world fries. Sounds very unrealistic." I commented. She gave me a playful slap on the head.

"Ha ha." She sat back down next to me. "Do you think we should tell them about the others?" She changed the subject rather abruptly. "It was a bit rude to lie."

"Rude? When'd you become worried about that?"

"Just because I'm a tomboy most of the time doesn't mean I don't have some girlish qualities." She smiled before frowning again. "I still wonder though. I really wish they'd come with us."

"Yeah, well, too late now huh?" I said. "When I meet the old man in hell I'll have to ask him what he was thinking." Outside there were screams and squealing tires.

"What the hell is that?" Sarah moved towards the tent flap. We both stepped outside to see a crowd moving swiftly in one direction. There was a sudden outbreak of shouting and everyone started running about, shoving the two of us out of the way. WE watched soldiers run back and forth shouting; some were carrying guns and ammo. This couldn't be good. Two marines ran up to us.

"This way please." Each of them grabbed an arm and dragged us through the crowd.

"What the fuck in going on?" I asked over the pandemonium.

"You both combat ready?" One of the Marines roughly shoved another grunt out of the way.

"Yeah. Why?" Sarah asked.

"There are Lazurian units in the field, attacking remnant forces." The marine explained. "You people are bad luck." He commented. Ah, so it was them, those blew bastards were back. For once I felt no sense of worry; we could definitely handle anything now that these guys were here.

"Glad they're here; I want to give them a piece of my mind!" I growled. Even if they didn't cause this, what good had they ever done? I looked over to see Sarah smirking.

"Let's hurry up then!" She said impatiently.

X With James X

Word came over the radio from another patrol that they had seen another plane go down and were moving to secure the sight. Our own objective was fast approaching. I wondered if the pilot had survived; it had been a rough landing. I wondered how a group of pilots could've survived on their own without support from the ground.

The Humvee bounced very roughly over a ditch and onto what had been a farm before the disaster, now filled with dead crops on dead ground. It actually bordered the lake and would've had a nice, peaceful view. But there was no peace in this new world. The other Humvee drove on past the wreckage to guard the other direction. Our own Humvee stopped near the smoking wreck.

"Stay on the gun." Anderson reminded Sam. We dismounted and moved swiftly towards the plane. It was indeed and F-15, complete with RAF markings and what looked like a bird of some sort painted on the side. I quickly paused a few yards out with my rifle at the ready. Peter immediately rushed forward to the plane. He paused to try and look through the cracked canopy.

"There's someone in here!" He called. He tried to pry it open. Nothing.

"Move over." Anderson growled and tried his own hand. It was enough and there was a crash as part of the canopy snapped off.

"He breathing?" I called back, scanning the landscape for anything.

"_She's_ fine, just unconscious…Oh man." Peter sounded worried. Curiously, I glanced back. The pilot was indeed a girl, quite young by the looks of it. Peter had pulled her helmet off revealing messy blond hair plastered to her face by sweat. She was white as a ghost! My heart skipped a beat.

"I thought you said she was alive?" I turned back.

"She's breathing, but judging by how skinny she is I'd say the conditions got to her." Peter muttered something under his breath. "She'll live, but we got to get her back to camp."

"Contact!" I looked back to see the other party taking aim at the far side of the lake. I could see why; four shapes were fast approaching, Gaz jeeps, the equivalent of our Humvees. The Lazurians moved fast. While it did not occur to me till later, that was the first moment I ever came into contact with our sworn enemy. All I felt was more anger, anger that even when the world was destroyed, they were hunting to weak and alone. Bastards. The thought made me scowl as I quickly retreated to the Humvee.

"Go back to your own fucking country!" Sam started laughing like a mad man as he started firing. The Lazurians started firing too. I ducked behind the Humvee and covered my head as bullets came whizzing by and rocked the Humvee upon impact. There was a loud bang followed by another explosion. I glanced out to see one of the jeeps flipping through the air in a heap of flames. The Sheridan fired another round and took out the last two jeeps.

"You're covered, now go!" The tank radioman called. Everyone quickly climbed in. We were behind enemy lines, just like we were trained. I slammed the door shut and locked it. The interior was cramped, due in part to our new patient. Now that I got a closer look, I was even more shocked. For one, she couldn't have been more then 18 years old, second, her pale skin and gaunt frame made her seem already dead. Anderson spun the Humvee around as the other one raced past us. The tank turned around and soon disappeared from view. I really hoped they didn't get killed trying to hold the enemy back. I look over as the girl gave a soft moan.

"Hey, are you awake?" Peter asked. Her reply was a retching sound before she passed out again.

"Ah fuck man, my boots!" Sam practically shouted. Staring down at the mess. I slid back a little towards the door. Poor kid.

X With Tim X

"We got enough fuel for 49 minutes." I said.

"12 missiles and two rocket salvos plus 574 rounds in the gun." Sarah reported.

"Right, let's give them a show!" I pushed the button and the helicopter whirled to life. I looked out the window to see a group of civilians watching as the heavy equipment rolled on behind them. Useless, the whole lot of them.

I pulled back on the stick and we ascended into the air. I took back what I had said a few days ago. That hadn't been real combat; this was. Once we reached a good height I pitched forward and we flew towards the battlefield, which was unfolding on the side of the lake. It had taken us a little while to get ready, so the ground forces had already moved along.

There were apparently some RAF survivors under fire. Funny, we only see other air force survivors after we found another military unit. I wondered if they were actually competent?

Sarah got on the radio and tried to see if there were any orders for us. Restraint was not my strongest trait, but it was there. We were expected to hit targets that threatened the safety of the tanks instead of just blowing up whatever we saw. Below, vehicles moved in a organized fashion towards the front lines.

"Copy, we have new orders." The radioman came back to us. "Confirmed enemy artillery towards the back on their lines. It is a major threat to the safety of our armored forces."

"Copy, we'll fly in and engage." Sarah hung to radio back up. "Now this is real fun!" We flew straight forward at top speed, and the sight of friendly units disappeared. It was a simple task really, we just had to avoid AA.

"Killjoy 3, be advised, multiple enemy air craft in the area." I assumed that was a radar controller. No shit, how else would they harass other pilots? We flew over a enemy convoy. They all looked up in surprise. Bastards probably didn't we'd be here; I smirked.

"Be advised, multiple T-34, 55s moving towards the front; 2 IS-3s in support." Sarah relayed the information back. IS-3s? I looked down to confirm. Damn, those things had thick armor. We probably should hit them on the way back. The line seemed of tanks stretched up; and there was a couple of pings of the machine gunners tried to hit us. Pathetic. Then came the sight of trucks, no doubt carrying infantry.

"Give them a taste of the chain gun!" I called. I attempted to keep dead center with the line as Sarah pulled the trigger. The force ripped the trucks and their occupants to shreds, sending right explosions up as the other trucks tried desperately to evade. All to soon was a disappointing click. "Aw, gone already? I snorted at the chaos below. "Let's find those artillery batteries."

We didn't have to look all that far, the battery was out in the open on the side of the road. Rocket trucks and self propelled guns, all firing up into the air.

"Hot damn!" I remarked as Sarah fired a salvo of rockets at the position, obliterating the vehicles in a massive ring on fire.

"One battery down." Sarah reported. The news was met with cheering. Ah, like sweet music. We turned to find the other. "Bomber heading towards the front lines." Sarah warned quiet. I glanced up at the massive shape moving through the clouds above. That would cause some carnage if unchecked. It wasn't our focus though. We kept moving, eying the ground for AA and artillery alike.

"Anyone have a vector or whatever on that artillery?" I asked.

"Copy, it seems to be coming from the other end of the lake." There was an explosion on the other end. "Let's find this battery and get back, sounds like they could use the support." We found it, though now they knew we were here. "Ah fuck!" I swore and jerked the helicopter to the side as a trail of lethal rounds followed us. "Take out that ZSU damnit!" I called. The ZSU, the standard AA tank for the Lazurian military. Lightly armored, but difficult is you didn't get the first strike. Sarah fired the last salvo of rockets at the mass of vehicles, taking out the ZSU and most of the artillery. She fired three hellfire missiles afterwards to finish up.

"All enemy artillery neutralized." Sarah reported. More cheering.

"Thanks for that, but we could use some help back here!" The tone became a little more desperate. I smirked. Like I said, they saw you as a god in this job.

"Copy, we're heading back."

X With James X

The girl shifted again but did not wake up, still hovering on a thin line between life and death.

"Holy shit!" I saw Sam's legs nearly buckle.

"Uh oh." Peter said.

"What is it?" I asked. I couldn't see from my seat.

"Who the hell shot that down so close to the front?" Anderson wondered. A gentle roaring reached my ears. The Humvee in front slammed its breaks and Anderson skidded to a stop behind it.

"Oh fuck man, it's heading right for us!" Sam called. I leaned forward over the girl to look out Peter's window. My heart skipped another beat. It was a plane, massive at that, falling towards the ground with a coat of flames and smoke billowing behind it.

"Watch out!" Someone from the other Humvee called. The plane hit the ground easily a mile away, but the distance closed quickly. I shrunk back in my seat as it's bulking, flaming form got closer. The ground shook violently and I covered my ears as the roaring got louder and louder. The plane skidded clear past us at high speed, less then 70 yards away from the front Humvee. A wave of extreme heat hit us for a second and we were engulfed in black, acrid smoke.

"Don't inhale it!" Peter warned as Sam ducked back down. "Jet fuel is toxic! Cover your mouth!" I did so, but not before inhaling a small bit. My eyes watered and my mouth burned. The cloud lingered for a second before dispersing. The plane was still skidding along.

"Everyone all right?" A cough came over the radio.

"Clear." Anderson coughed back, "keep moving." The lead Humvee started up again. "15 years and they're still using those bulky models." Anderson commented. So that had been a Lazurian bomber? I realized one of the reasons why the government fawned over the air force: air power is down right terrifying. And I hadn't even seen it's conventional use!

As we got closer to the camp, the signal picked up and we could hear the sound of battle from all around. The rest of the Battalion must've mobilized while we were on our rescue op. Compared to the vehicles rolling out, we were actually rolling into camp, but only for a brief moment. Peter got out and gently lifted the poor girl up.

"I'll take her to the medic station, you guys go on. Be careful." He pleaded to me. I nodded.

"They won't get me." Peter nodded and quickly got out of the way. Anderson spun the Humvee around. There was still a battle to be won.

XX Author's note XX

I require input from my readers: should I go for 5k words a chapter or more around 8-10k? I don't want to spend 200 chapters telling the story, but I don't want to make them too big to read in one sitting.

I got the idea for the bomber scene from the game animation; the bomber doesn't explode, it simply backs out of the screen.

I'm finally catching up to the point I was at before I started the rewrite. Please leave a review! Don't forget, I accept OCs. And I don't always need characters, I could use some names for other units, such as bombers.


	14. A Kind of Home II

X With James X

The battle was already in full swing as we tried to get to the front lines. The AA and one of the remaining jets had eliminated the LNAF (Lazurian National Air Force) craft, which left the ground forces to deal with. You see, each country utilized different styles of warfare. Lazuria focused on numbers and built very powerful tanks. Their KV-1s had been serving for nearly two decades and they were still difficult for a Abram to duel, but this was mainly due to their thick armor rather then their guns, now nearly outdated.

The new IS-3 model tanks, really just upgraded prototype models from the Great War, where very deadly from what the presentation at base had shown, with a cannon nearly on par to a modern Abram. Rubinelle relied on combined attacks of various powerful and advanced weapons, such as rockets and attack helicopters. Though our depletion had made this virtually impossible. I privately hoped the Lazurians had lost most of their equipment; no matter how advanced a Abram was, it could not stand a chance if five Lazurian light tanks rushed it.

"I wonder how they recruit people for these positions!" Sam commented. I could see what he meant; I don't think I could actually sit in one of those tanks when air attack or a surprise shot could burn you to ashes in a mere second. I wondered this, mainly because of the wreckages we were passing. Most of the tanks were simply damaged beyond repair and the crew was evacuating. Others were completely engulfed in flames. More men who would never reach that shelter or see humanity reestablished. I growled slightly.

"Focus private." Anderson said simply, tightening his grip on the wheel. "We'll get them." I wondered how the two of them were taking the situation, seeing as they fought Lazurians before. He pressed on the gas and we raced even faster towards the front lines.

X With Tim X

I frowned in thought. There were a ton of enemies down there, but up here we only had nine hellfire missiles to fire. Damn, why'd we waste our ammo on the Navy?

"We'll dueling out down here with two IS-3s, it ain't gonna end well." A tank commander radioed.

"Copy, we'll engage." Sarah replied. Hard to believe it would take three of our best tanks to take out one prototype Lazurian heavy tank. We managed to ignore the enticing sight of the other tanks below and kept moving back towards the front. There they were, side by side, the same two IS-3s we'd saw earlier. And we had a shot right up their ass.

"Firing!" Sarah pushed the button. Two missiles streaked down and hit right tank. The first pierced the weak back armor and destroyed the engine. The second got inside and detonated right in the crew compartment. The other one had no hope of getting out the way and shared the same fate. Their destruction was met with cheering.

"Thanks for that, we're moving up." The stalled advance started again.

"What now?" I wondered.

"Fly back, we'll engage some of the lighter tanks; thin the line so they can't rush." Sarah suggested.

"Good idea." I rotated the bird around. "Forward speed, lets try and get there before the Calvary."

X With James X

By distant instinct, men are natural killers. This trait has been mostly repressed due to civilized living. But with soldiers, this trait is reawaken. I wasn't sure why I was so angry; something was just gnawing at me, something that made my blood pump, something that made my trigger finger itch. Maybe it was my desire to protect civilians; maybe it was the desire to avenge my fallen brethren. Maybe years of propaganda really had gotten to me. Or maybe I was just upset with the new world. Whatever it was, at that moment, I was out for blood.

Anderson swung to the right and passed a speeding Abram. Over the regular chatter on the radio came a clearer message.

"This is Killjoy 3, ammunition expended, returning to base. Be advised the enemy seems to be changing direction, repeat, they may be retreating." She cut the radio off. Retreating?

"Cowardly bastards." Sam said. Anderson grunted in agreement. They thought they could just hit us and run. Bull. Not while I was here. Where would they retreat to anyway? The interstate just led straight ahead. On the left were clear fields and the lake, and to the right burst out forests. Up ahead we saw the flaming wreckage of several trucks and jeeps. I noticed several figures on the side of the road. Lazurians. Sam immediately started firing, though at this range the gun probably would never hit them. They all quickly fled into the forest. Anderson turned sharply and we skid to a stop on the side of the road. Two more Humvees did the same.

"Hide and seek then?" Anderson pulled out a pistol. "Find by me."

"Come out come out where ever you are." Sam taunting in a singsong voice as he climbed out of the gunner hatch with his rifle. I opened the door and stepped out. They couldn't fight like men could they?

"Surrender now! Or we will find you!" Another soldier shouted into the woods. No reply. Sgt. Anderson brought up his M249. Without warning, he started spraying into the woods. Shells clattered onto the asphalt and there was a cracking sound as the force knocked down several trees. The belt reached its end and he stopped firing.

"Might as well try to 'persuade' them." Sgt. Anderson said. I laughed. They had surely felt that.

"Advance, move slowly and check your surroundings." Anson ordered quietly. "Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT shoot any unarmed soldier." Right, right, we should at least prove we were better then them. Slowly, the lot of us entered the woods. I kept my eyes on my sights, weaving back and forth. The vegetation on the trees had died, making it extremely bland. I could easily see the others moving just a couple of yards away. Then I saw a boot. I prowled forward with my rifle aimed low. The boot was attached to a leg, which was stuck out awkwardly from behind a tree. I circled around to make sure it was clear and approached from the front. The soldier was still alive; he clutched a bleeding wound in his stomach. His rifle lay beside him.

"Don't move." I realized how quiet I sounded. "Don't move!" My voice was loud enough to be heard. The Lazurian jerked his head up and I froze. His eyes held a horrible cloud of sheer hate that sent a chill down my spine. How could a human being have so much hate? It had shaken me slightly, but not stunned me. I noticed him yank his revolver out with great speed. I fired first. His head exploded all over the tree and the gun fell from his limp hand.

"Coleman?" I heard Sgt. Anson's voice.

"1 hostile down." I called back. I turned around and stared into the mass of trees. I couldn't see anyone. I moved in what I hoped was the right direction. Somewhere in the distance there was the rumble of tanks. They were moving, just not firing. The sound of gunfire I took cover behind a dying oak tree and tried to locate where it was coming from. More gunfire soon filled the air. It was coming from the left… I moved from tree to tree, keeping my eyes focused on the area the shots were coming from. More gunfire erupted, this time much closer. Several bullets hit a tree as I passed it. I dived behind another one for cover. Something passed in and out of my line of sight and I looked over. A Lazurian soldier was maybe 20 yards away, squeezing off shots into the forests. He didn't see me. I took aim and fired. The bullets caught him in the side and he toppled over.

Something landed beside me. My eyes widened. I scrambled away from the grenade as fast as I could. It had been a trap to flush me out; bullets followed me as I dragged myself behind the tree. The grenade detonated. I shouted in pain as a burning sensation started at my ankle. "Gah." I dragged my ankle to where I could see it. The top portion of my boot was flayed, and blood pulsed out from behind a stained piece and metal. Trying to ignore the sudden feeling of light headed-ness, I leaned back out and fired a volley towards the other direction, driving them into cover.

I reached up and gripped the truck to pull myself up. Maybe it wasn't so bad. I tried to put pressure on it. Bad idea. I nearly fell over right there. Ah damn, the shrapnel probably hit a major nerve or artery.

"I'm hit!" I called, unsure if I could be heard over the roar of gunfire. Woods were one of the worst places to fight; you couldn't see who you were shooting at. More bullets hit the tree, though it held. I slouched down carefully to avoid doing anymore damaged. I slammed another clip into the breech and pulled the bolt back. Taking a deep breath, I leaned back out to find a target. One of the Lazurians was reloading while he was still out of cover. Fatal mistake. I took aim and fired. The rounds struck him in the chest and he went down. His companion shouted out in panic and suddenly gunfire came flying at me from three different directions. I flattened myself as close to the ground as possible.

"You alright?" I sat back up to see another Rubinelle soldier kneeling in front of me.

"Grenade." I motioned to my leg. He winced.

"Damn, that looks serious." He said. There was a explosion nearby immediately followed by a freeze of the gunfire. Artillery? Who the hell was firing into the woods? There was too much as a chance for friendly casualties! More shells landed, these ones much closer to our side.

"What the fuck?" I heard Sam yelling. More artillery rained down, All of them landing on our side. The soldier quickly helped me up.

"We better get the hell out of here!" He said. I couldn't agree more. The last thing I wanted was to die in a friendly fire incident.

X Outside the forest X

"Cover successful, we're withdrawing, sir." The line went dead.

"Good news sir," The radio officer turned to the man observing the battle from a sniper scope. "It worked; they've retreated. Should I order the artillery piece to cease fire?"

"Tell them to withdraw." The man said in a disinterested voice. He refocused from the retreating tanks to the enemy forces advancing fast. The last thing Tasha had expected was such reinforcements. But Gage always kept a trick up his sleeve for such emergencies.

"Gah! Where the hell did they come from!" Gage took his eyes off the scope as the fiery officer in question stormed up. Her plane had been damaged and she'd been forced to bail out. "I almost had them. I ALMOST HAD THEM!" She repeated in a louder voice.

"Stay calm." Gage suggested. "There is no shame in a tactical retreat." Tasha was still fuming.

X With James X

"Hey man, you alright?" Sam came running over.

"Grenade." I said through gritted teeth. My leg was burning pretty bad at this point. A final artillery shell landed and it ceased. Now that we were outside the forest, I could see that the artillery fire had actually been coming from the other side of the field, the Lazurian side. Hard to believe they were fire so close to their own men. Or maybe they didn't realize they were there.

Sheridans and M2s were already rolling pass. The soldier helped me sit down next to our Humvee.

"That looks bad." Sam commented.

"What happened?" Anderson was coming over. He glanced at the wound on my leg. "Ah, that ain't good." He decided. "We better get you back to camp." He decided. Sgt. Anson came up and briefly examined the wound.

"Nothing crippling or permanent." He deducted quickly. Ok, that was good.

"C'mon, we better get back to camp." Anderson repeated. In spite of everything, I felt slightly embarrassed. I'd been back in the field a day and I was already out again. We'd barely taken part in the battle. But we had rescued that pilot; I reminded myself…I wonder if she was okay?

I crawled in and carefully moved my leg. Sam got back on the squad gun. Anderson turned around and we headed back to camp. The other two Humvees had their own casualties and were heading in the same direction. When we were halfway there, new orders came over the radio.

"All units halt. The enemy is withdrawing." It was the Lieutenant. "This fight in over." The line went dead. There was a flurry of displeased ranting following this; evidently some still wanted to pursue the enemy. An order was an order though.

"That reminded me of the forests on the islands." Anderson said. "Huh Riley?" Sgt. Anson nodded.

"Another war story?" Sam came back down.

"You know how there are all those disputed islands in the channel? We fought on a few during the great war." Anderson explained. "Some days we hid in the woods, other days we were attacked from them. Didn't sleep for days." He remarked. That sounded pretty rough, even by recent standards.

"Isn't that more a job for Marines though?" Sam asked.

"There are 132 islands in the channel." Sgt. Anson reminded him.

"Aye, the navy and marines were so spread thin that the army and air force had to step in." Anderson explained. "Some nights the sound of planes never stopped." Huh. Organized and large-scale warfare were a thing of the past now, so I didn't think we'd experience something like that.

"Why do you think they attacked?" I wondered as we passed the burnt out husk of a large tank.

"They're just a bunch of bastards?" Sam suggested.

"Old scars they want to return?" Anderson shrugged.

"There is little to no tactical or economic advantage to gain." Sgt. Anson seemed to be thinking.

"Ah, who cares why?" Sam sat back. "We won, they're dead. It ain't our place to think, just to fight." I realized how much that sounded like a pawn.

"At least try to keep some humanity soldier." Anderson advised. "Sooner or later things will smooth out and we'll all go back to normal lives. I was left wondering again how the future was going to pan out. We were amongst the first to get back to camp. Sam ran to go find a medic. I painfully stepped out and leaned on the Humvee, observing little drops of blood dripping onto the already-red ground. Sam finally returned with a medic.

"Doesn't look that bad." He remarked. The pain made me beg to differ. He shouldered me over to the medic tent.

"I tried putting pressure on it and it hurt like hell, might have struck a nerve." I winced.

"We already got a couple of soldiers in there for similar injuries." The medic replied. "The Lazurian infantry sure loved using those things." A nurse held open the flap and we walked in. There were already some cots occupied by wounded, though as far as I could see they were all minor injuries. I sat on a nearby cot. The medic grabbed a tool and began cutting away my boot so he could get a better look at the wound. I glanced up to see if Peter was around, but I couldn't find him.

"Ah!" I nearly kicked the medic in his face. The wound began bleeding more.

"Calm down, I gotta get these fragments out." He gripped another with the tweezers. All right, I was tough enough to handle this. My leg was bleeding even more though.

"Ah!" I thrashed around again.

"Nurse! Get me a tourniquet." The medic threw the bloody fragment on the table with the other. Five extremely painful minutes and a shot later, most of the fragments were out. I rubbed my leg to help get some blood flow back. It felt really numb and painfully at the same time. "How's it feel?" The medic asked.

"Still hurts, but no pain, no gain, right?" I answered. The medic laughed.

"Half the civilians we treat get pissed when we can't give them anything for the pain."

"No time to moan if you're a soldier." I agreed. There were people to help and enemies to kill. There was no time to focus on pain. I stood up and carefully put a little pressure on it. I didn't stumble out and hiss in pain. I could put a little pressure on it, I just probably shouldn't.

"You were in here yesterday, weren't you?" He asked. "Well, I hate to tell you again-" I felt a little annoyed. "-but you should avoid any grueling physical labor for a day or two. It'll heal; no major nerve or vein was cut."

"Right, thanks." I nodded. I sat there another moment to try and let the feeling get back to my leg. I looked up and saw the Captain enter the tent and silently walk towards the center of the mess. Medics, busy with their usually job, gave a short 'sir' as they passed. The Captain paused and looked around at all the men lying on cots. I saw him hang his head down.

"Captain Brenner, sir?" The lead medic came up.

"Casualty reports?" The Captain asked. The medic looked down at his clipboard.

"Reports from the field say at least 30 men in the tanks have been killed. We've recovered 19 crew members, 1 died on the operating table." The Captain shook his head. Two soldiers burst into the tent, carrying another, unconscious soldier between them. "We've got about 30 other men from the field, and more are coming in." I totaled this in my head. That was nearly another 100 men who couldn't fight or would never see the world again. That familiar queasy feeling came back.

"Make sure the surviving soldiers are cared for. No one else needs to die." The Captain said.

"Yes sir!" The medic saluted him and the Captain left.

"James!" I looked over to see Peter jogging over. "Why are you here? Are the others OK?"

"They're fine." I answered quickly and Peter sighed in relief. "My ankle got hit with grenade fragments." I held up the bandaged limb. Peter made his own observation. "The medic says I just need to stay off for a day or two."

"Try more like a week." Peter said. He looked up at me. "And don't try and find a way around it!" I frowned. A week?

"Hell, compared to everyone else, it ain't that bad!" I exclaimed. "We need every available man working; we suffered nearly 100 casualties." I said in a defeated voice and hung my head down. This still didn't make a whole lot of sense. "This was a pointless battle."

"Most people don't expect soldiers to think about this stuff." Peter commented, taking a seat beside me. "It's a lot worse then think." He suddenly sounded tired. I looked up. "Some of the people and soldiers," he explained. "Death, it doesn't disturb them. I've seen some just wait patiently for it to take them away." The idea sent a chill down my spine. But then again, maybe some people just couldn't handle this new world?

"How are those pilots?' I changed the subject. It would really hurt if that poor girl didn't make it.

"We saw five planes go down. Only 3 of the pilots came out alive though." Peter said. I shook my head. More crosses to dart the landscape. "Two of them, including that girl, are in critical condition. The third is okay. I keep checking on the girl, I'll tell you how she does." I nodded.

"Right. Thanks." Those two had defied death twice; I really hoped they pulled through. Salvation was right around the corner for whoever came with us.

X With Tim X

"No applause are necessary." I laughed. Maybe we should stay, all this attention actually felt good! All the tank crews had come to pay their respects.

"Thanks for taking out those IS-3s man!" A crewmember pulled off his helmet and patted me on the shoulder. "If we'd gone any closer, there would've been a big mess!" These guys were eternally grateful for the support. Though it seemed weird how they weren't freaked out at encountering Lazurians so suddenly. Ah, they were probably use to fighting.

I wondered briefly where Sarah was. She would've loved this attention. She'd walked off rather suddenly earlier when things were calming down. Ah, I was worrying over nothing. She'd probably just gone to find a secluded spot to pee. Her weak bladder had been a bit of trouble throughout the years, but it was still a taboo subject.

"Listen, guys." I put my hands up in mock defense. "You're giving me too much credit; my co-pilot helped too. I just ain't sure where she is." They finally stepped back. "I better go look for her."

"Chow man, good fighting again!" They walked off. Okay, this was a big place; better get started. Or not.

"Hey, where the hell did you-" She grabbed my arm and dragged me in a different direction. "Hey, what's your problem?" I shrugged her arm but kept up at a steady jog. She was frowning deeply. That wasn't good; in fact, she only did that before something extremely bad was gonna happen.

"You've got to see this." She told me.

"What?" I asked. She didn't answer. "What's going on?" I repeated. She grabbed my arm and led mew directly to what looked like the medic tent. We walked in and brushed past a pair of soldiers walking out. "Medic tent…why are we here?" By now I was confused more then anything. She walked over to where a figure was lying on one of the beds. It looked faintly familiar. Okay, she looked familiar…wait… "No fucking way…" I muttered. I walked around to get a glimpse of the figures face. "Holy fucking shit." I backed away and looked at Sarah.

"Wait, if Kim is here…uh…well fuck." I muttered. "This is bullshit." I muttered. Yep, it was Kim. Same frame, same face, except it was pale and plastered in sweat.

"Eddie is over there." Sarah jerked a finger behind her. I glanced and saw another figure covered in bandages. That kid still had shitty luck. We had even worse! Seriously, how the hell did we run into the same exact people we left? We should've been going in the opposite direction!

"I don't believe this!" I saw a curious crowd out of the corner of my eye. I got a bit closer and whispered. "This is really bad."

"No shit." Sarah scowled. "Soon as they wake up they'll recognize us. Then there will be awkward questions." She paced for a moment. "Not that I'm upset; It's nice to see they're still alive. But still-"

"Aye, I get what you mean." I shook my head. I wonder how our reception would change if they found out we deserted an allied group. Wasn't the penalty for desertion death? Shit. There goes our shitty luck again: we try and preserve our lives and it bites us in the ass. "Maybe we should leave?" I suggested. Regardless if the world was a shit hole now, I still didn't want to face a firing squad. Wait, the Apache was out of fuel. Damn it.

"Sir, Ma'am?" We froze and glanced behind us to see a Marine standing there. "Looking at the down pilots we rescued?" He guessed. All right, play along.

"Yeah, I guess." I shrugged.

"We recovered three of them; I'm afraid the other two didn't survive." He offered his condolences. I mentally did the math. There had been seven people when we left, but only five had been in the battle…I suddenly remembered Waylon. Maybe that jackass was dead. "Anyway, the Captain and Lieutenant would like to see you." Fuck, I had to hold back to urge to spit it out. Reluctantly, we both followed. This was bad; why else would they want to see us right after they rescued other pilots? Specifically ones we already knew.

"Maybe we can salvage an excuse out of the situation?" Sarah whispered. What could we say? We'd pretty much told them to fuck off and die and left. Damn. I was starting to sweat slightly.

"Here we are." The Marine announced. Already? How the fu- oh right, the medic station was right by it. Fuck it all again. We glanced uncertainly at each other.

"Well, we've always faced stuff together." Sarah extended her hand with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "If it goes to hell, we start running?"

"And don't look back." I nodded. Ok, we had a plan, a horrible plan, but a plan. I shook my head and tried to put on a disinterested face. 1…2…3… We both walked into the tent. Ah hell. Turned out the 3rd survivor was Stone, though we should've expected it. He was already talking to the Captain and Lieutenant. They all looked up as we entered. Stone didn't immediately show any signs of recognizing us. Then again, he never did show emotion.

"Alright, these are the pilots we recovered a few days ago." The Captain motioned to us. He didn't sound all that excited and looked sullen. What the hell? We'd just beaten their Asses! "Like you, the unit they were with was hunted down and killed." He went on. Stone still showed no signs of recognition. Now that I could see, he looked like absolute shit, just like the others.

"This is Captain Stone of the 13th airborne." The Captain began introduction. "Captain, these are-

"Weren't you the leader of Eagle squadron?" Sarah cut in. "I think we saw you during those field exercises on the coast." She pretended to be searching her memory. That was actually pretty genius. Why didn't I think of that?

"Correct." Stone's voice was the same tone as it had always been. "Though these aren't ideal circumstances for a reunion." He extended is hand. We both shook it to keep up the ruse. Okay, maybe we weren't entirely fucked.

"Glad to see you're all aquainted." The Captain seemed to smile faintly. "Just wait a moment, there are another two people due that need to hear this next part." The tent entrance opened and two soldiers stepped in. Hell, they seemed old as Stone.

"Captain, you wanted to speak with us?" The larger one asked, leaning against the giant machine gun he was carrying.

"Sgt. Anderson and Anson, thank you for coming." The Captain nodded. "Lin." He nodded at her.

"As you all know, our objective for the past several weeks has been helping survivors of the region. Due to our equipment limitations, this has proven difficult." Did this chick ever smile? "Air support would obviously help our objective." Why was she telling us this? We already said we weren't into search and rescue. "The support would also prevent casualties again rouge forces. With those facts in mind, and the recent influx of pilots, we have decided to form an air wing to our unit." The two soldiers exchanged glances. "Now, we are on our way to the shelter, but there are several air bases nearby. We can send out expeditionary units to search them. She turned to us. "Should you choose to stay, your role would be supporting our armored forces. At least one base should have the materials to arm you craft." Well, at least she remembered that we hadn't made up our minds yet.

"The troops spoke highly of your support today." The Captain informed us. We both just nodded. Like I said, you got respect.

"We can find another jet for you." The Lieutenant addressed Stone. "You can provide top cover or strafe hostiles on the ground. As for you Sgt-"

"Wait." Sarah cut her off. If the Lieutenant was annoyed, she didn't show it. "What about those other pilots, I thought more were recovered?"

"In all likely hood, they will not survive the night." The Lieutenant replied simply and turned back. Sarah seemed surprised. I was too. I could finally say I knew someone as cold (or colder, at least we somewhat worried over them) as us. "We intend to start a company of helicopter infantry for rescue operations and to harassing possible enemy forces."

"Well, sir, that sounds like a decent plan, and I'm sure you won't have much trouble getting the helicopters." The bigger soldier straightened up. "But for us to truly resemble the 18th more, we'd need some talented or experienced pilots. Plus, we only have three boys with us, and one is gonna be walking funny for the next days. I'm all for the idea, but we'd need 6 good crew members, 2 helicopters, and 75 able-bodied men with proper training and equipment for that to work." Considering that everything in this place was canned, I highly doubted they would get even half of that stuff.

"Is it possible to draw recruits from the rest of the battalion?" The Captain asked.

"Unlikely sir." The Lieutenant answered. "None of the men in the core 12th have helicopter experience. I highly doubt the detachment of marines would so willingly split apart. And the civilians simply lack to proper equipment."

"There is an extensive training period as well." The other soldier spoke, setting his sniper rifle onto his lap. "If we did recruit civilians, it would take 16 weeks of training." Damn, what type of standards did they have? "If we cut out sky diving, it can be 15 weeks." Sky diving from helicopters? That actually sounded pretty cool. "We'd need time and dedicated volunteers." He summed it all up basically.

"I'm afraid this is all we have, can you still manage?" The Captain asked. The larger soldier scratched his head.

"It won't be no pristine unit, but it could get the job done. We'd need two weeks though to teach the basics and whip them into soldiers. But our boys and us could definitely re-form the 18th Helibourn." The Captain nodded in satisfaction.

"It's been a long day, so we won't send out the recovery teams till tomorrow. I want everyone to get some rest in the mean time. This is very important to our efforts."

"Sir." The two soldiers said firmly at the same time and left. Stone nodded at the man.

"Understood." He left. The Captain turned to us.

"I know neither of you have agreed to stay, but are you okay with that role?"

"No sweat, it was just what we were trained for." I said. This guy clearly didn't understand much the concept of air power. Then again, he was just a grunt in the armored divisions. "We haven't forgotten, but we're still thinking on it. The situation is very…" I searched for a synonym for fucked up.

"Complicated." Sarah answered for me. That works. The Captain nodded in understanding.

"We won't force you to stay if you choose to leave." He assured us. We nodded and walked out of the tent.

"That was close." I commented. Holy fuck.

"I'm surprised he didn't say anything." Sarah agreed.

"I saw nothing to gain from it." A voice behind us said. Speak of the devil.

"Well old man, I suppose you think we owe you a 'thanks'?" I crossed my arms and started at him. He shook his head.

"If you're expecting a sorry, you can forget that too." Sarah said. She seemed upset. "We're glad we left. We've been safe for the past few days. Where as half of you got killed and now the rest of you are sick as dogs."

"Hey, since we'll all together and things are calm, I'd like to ask one thing." I looked up at him. "Why? Why the hell did you let Waylon in charge? What the hell?" Stone sighed.

"Tell me, how old do I look?" It was a seemingly off-topic question.

"Uh…" All I knew that with the war being 20 years ago, he had to be at least 38.

"43?" Sarah guessed.

"Close. 48." He corrected her. 48? Damn, I didn't think someone still served that late. "My time as a ace has past. I should've stopped flying already." He looked up, probably recalling some far off memories.

"…Okay, so you're getting old, but how would that stop you from taking over?"

"Look at it from my perspective." He said. "I had no idea what was going on, just like you. Now think; what were the rest of the pilots like?"

"Overconfident, boastful, spoiled…" Sarah counted off her fingers.

"Who was their idol?" Stone went on.

"Waylon." I meant to say it like it was most obvious question, but it came out a bit uneasy.

"So who do you think a majority of them would've followed?" He asked.

"Weren't half of them from your own squadron?" Sarah asked. I doubted that would stop them; Stone did get a bad reputation as annoying or no fun. She seemed to realize this after she asked.

"I didn't want to risk tearing the group apart; the time would be far too horrible. I saw no harm in it at the time. What was important that we all stayed together. I was just trying to preserve everyone's life." He looked up at us. I scratched the back of head, hanging my head down slightly. I did actually make sense. I hated being proven wrong…

"Okay…but what about AFTER things started going to shit? That kid showed you the same presentation, so you knew what was going on." Sarah asked. She hated it more then me.

"By then, it was too difficult to successfully gain control. Waylon already had his two assistants. I most likely would've been killed if I tried to take control. I was worried what would happen to the others, including you both. I didn't like the situation, but our best chances were in staying together. Tell me, what were the odds that you could've just easily missed this Battalion? And tell me if you were both really in good health when you were away." He finished. I felt red in the face. Sarah's face was red too. "But I can understand your actions. That's why I didn't reveal anything." Okay…what was I suppose to do now? He looked at us expectantly for a response. Damn. He never showed emotion, but I was sure at that moment that he felt smug underneath those eyes.

"So Waylon's dead?" I blurted out. When all else fails, change the subject to something relevant and hope it doesn't lead back around.

"Good riddance." Sarah spat. Stone shook his head. "But there is only three of you here; you, Kim, and Eddie. So where'd he go?" I was wondering that myself.

"Allow me to explain." Stone began. "After you left, we still kept going, but we ran into hostile Lazurians again. One of Waylon's companions was shot down, and we were vastly outnumbered. We were all scared that we would die, even Waylon." I grinned at the thought. Not so tough when the tables are turned huh? "We repelled three attacks over the two day period." Stone went on. "Things were relatively quiet till we arrived here. We ran into another force."

"And then the 12th Battalion stepped in to save your ass." I knew the story from here. Or so I thought.

"The rest of us were shot down; my plane was suffering from a hit during an earlier battle. Waylon though, stayed in the air." How the hell did he survive that long? Must've been better then we thought. "He's already left."

"On his own?" Sarah seemed surprised.

"That's good news though. Hell, we'll all back together, Waylon is gone, why rest on the past? All water under the bridge hmm?" I suggested. There really was no point; what's done, is done.

"I suppose it is." Stone nodded. "I've been asked to lead this new air wing, will you two stay?"

"We're thinking on." I repeated. Stone simply nodded.

"At least stick around for a while." He actually sounded a bit amused. "Kim will be particularly happy to see you both. She was very upset when you left." He walked off. I scratched my head. So we were all friends again? Eh, fucked up times called for fucked up measures and rules. I glanced at Sarah, who was deep in thought.

"I'm going to go visit them again, care to come with?" She asked.

"I ain't got nothing better to do." I shrugged. I realized I was in a bragging position; we'd taken the better path, and it paid off. I equally realized that bragging would be morbid though, since the others were still dead. Damn. Maybe I should rethink my outlook on life.

XX Authors Note XX

An update so soon? Not really, I already had the first four pages of this typed when I uploaded the last. I'm eager to do the next few chapters; they'll have a lot of development.

I've done some research, and noticed at least 3 other DoR fics attempting to novelize the game, each in a different way with a different charm. Now, I ain't claiming my is the best; it has flaws compared to the other ones, but mine is the only one that actually will be finished. It's a shame that not many authors take on big projects like this.

You people know the drill about ideas and OCs by now.


	15. Chapter 14

X With James X

It is understandable that following the battle, I wanted to sleep. And I did just that. I was awoken by something that had thus far in this journey been absent: a bugle. Being so large, the camp didn't wake as one, but the spell gradually passed along. Back at the base, the sound of a bugle meant climbing out of bed. In my sleepy stake, I initially forgot that we weren't actually on base, which led to me groping around for where my boots should be. Then I remember that I already _was_ wearing them. Sam took a extra minute to figure this out. Peter looked at us for an answer

"Hurry up!" We all jumped. That was Anderson's voice. We all grabbed our guns and ran outside. "Attention!" Anderson shouted. We all straightened up. He held the instrument in question in one hand, his gun in the other. All signs of friendliness had vanished from his eyes. He paced around us, seemingly analyzing every detail. We kept our heads up and eyes forward. As the blood began to flow, a small amount of pain reached my leg. I wondered why Sgt. Anderson had called us all out here like this, seeing as this way had been abandoned where we started traveling.

He circled around again, looking each of us directly in the eye. I didn't flinch. Sgt. Anson was standing a little ways off with his sniper rifle in hand, observing us in the same way. Once he was behind us, Anderson started laughing.

"Ha, ha, ha, at ease boys." We relaxed. He walked back around to face us. "Still familiar?" It was difficult to break such a habit when you'd repeated it for a few years every single day. "Good. I hope-no, I EXPECT you all to remember everything you learned and did during your time in the 18th.

"Yes sir." We all echoed.

"Good. Good…" He nodded. "Do you all have your gear?" We nodded. "Alright, follow me then." As we walked on through the camp, I noticed that it was quiet, very quiet in fact. Sam yawned.

"I know I can't have slept more then a few hours. Why are we up so early?" He asked. If we'd been scheduled for early patrols, we would've got a warning in advance.

"I'll explain in a few, just keep up. Today-" Said Sgt. Anderson "is a good day."

X With Tim X

"Up, up, c'mon get up!" Sarah shoved me again. I growled and pushed the hand away. I knew today we were supposed to go get munitions for the helicopter, and I was glad. But did it have to be so early? "Up." Sarah repeated, jabbing me in the ribs. I growled and rolled over, forgetting I was sleeping on a narrow cot. I rolled off and hit the ground face first. That sure as hell woke me up. Sarah, who at the moment was putting her left foot into the legs of her flight suit, looked at me and started laughing.

"I'm up woman, I'm up!" I growled. I hated mornings. She was still giggling even as we left the tent. An amused-looking soldier was waiting for us.

"Not a morning person?" He asked. I grumbled in response. "Well, we have a vehicle prepared for you both. If you'll follow me."

"Why the hell do we have to get up before everyone else?" I grumbled.

"If we recover the cargo early, the Battalion can move out sooner." The soldier explained. I grumbled again. Near the edge of camp, a column of vehicles, headed and followed by a tank, was waiting. The soldier motioned to a jeep and we climbed into the back.

"Glad you could make it." Stone said from the front seat.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." I said.

"Did you check on the others before you came here?" Sarah asked him. Stone nodded.

"They both made it through the night." Stone informed us. Huh, well, at least there was some promise. Though there were no guarantees they'd be any use if they survived. We'd just have to wait and see.

X With James X

"Tell me boys, do you think things will return to normal?" Anderson's question was rather sudden, and I was initially dumbfounded for an answer.

"Everything related to 'normal' is now a charred wreck." Sam pointed out.

"But we can rebuild those things, can't we?" Peter asked.

"Possibly…Possibly…" Anderson said. "Whether or not we'll live long enough to see things truly return to normal, we take the first step today to return to our normal lives." He turned around. He was grinning. "Take a guess: where are we going?" The three of us exchanged glances. We all shrugged.

"Shoot." Sam shrugged.

"We are currently on our way to a nearby Air Force base." Sgt. Anderson informed us.

"We woke up early just for a regular search and rescue mission?" Sam yawned.

"Enough of that, soldier." Sgt. Anson growled. "Show your superiors some respect. And don't question orders." Sam shut up immediately. I guess he still had a ways to go in the discipline area.

"No, but we'll be doing a lot of them soon." Anderson said. Sam's comment had zapped any care freeness from the air. "We-" He paused, "are reforming the 18th." He looked back at us for a reaction. Rather then joy, I felt confusion. How could we possibly reform the 18th? We'd need helicopters and specially trained troops.

"Uhh…can we do that?" Sam wondered.

"Not sure, but we're gonna sure as hell try!" Sgt. Anderson snapped back into a commanding tone. "Listen up and listen good: we have a very important task. Helicopter support will be a great help to efforts by the Battalion, and such is a priority. We are going to select two helicopters in order to raise a company-sized formation capable of rapid deployment and search and rescue. Do you all follow?" He asked. I was still confused. Don't get me wrong; I would greatly enjoy being back in my position, but how could we raise a company out of nothing? "Well?" Anderson repeated.

"Sir!" We all responded.

"Our numbers will have to come from the civilian population. They will need tough training to be capable of our most basic functions." Sgt. Anson informed us. "Based upon that situation…we have made a decision concerning your ranks." We all straightened up. "The two of us will have trouble training so many new recruits, so you'll all have to lend a hand. Given your roles in the future, perhaps 'Private' isn't the correct rank. I assume you boys can act and perform better then any of the recruits?"

"Yes sir." We all replied. Sgt. Anson nodded.

"Okay Corporals." Anderson began. "What we're going to do, is savage two helicopters; this is going to be a company sized formation. Then we're gonna have to draw recruits from the civilian population to train, and there ain't much a shortage of volunteers. You all remember your training, but we only have time for the essentials. I want training to focus on weapons training and helicopter deployment exercises. We're gonna be busy for the next few days, so stay focused. We have no idea what can happen."

X With Tim X

Sarah, having decided she was tired, had since rested her head in my lap and gone to sleep while I stayed wide awake. Damn double standards. Ah, she deserved it I guess. She never said it, but things were wearing her down. They were wearing us both down. How did these people live like this? Again, this wasn't weakness; there was reasoning behind it. Flying an aircraft is very rough on the body. And so pilots have to keep in shape. Our conditions were going from fit to sick REAL fast. Then there was gramps in the front…ah; I should still call him old man. Anyway, I had no idea how he was still flying. In the ground forces and navy you could get well into your 40s and still serve in active combat roles, but it was a bit different with the RAF.

"What the hell?" The driver exclaimed. Rather suddenly, the ground began shaking violently. The jeep skidded to a stop. Sarah jerked her head up.

"What's going on?" She demanded. The whole column came to a stop. The radio was alive with swearing. And as soon as it had started, it was over.

"All vehicles, report in!" Someone ordered over the radio. Everyone called in.

"What just happened?" Stone questioned.

"Earthquake." The driver explained. "There were a ton of them when the meteors hit; them and the shockwaves are what did the most damage. There are still a few tremors, but they're few and far in between." He shifted the jeep into gear. "Not a big deal." He shrugged. Not a big deal? What a load of-

"There isn't a moment of peace." Sarah commented.

"There never is in war." Stone told her.

"What war?" I asked. It's not like there was any official documents.

"The war for survival."

X With James X

After an hour of driving, the rough landscape ended and we found the road. The air force base appeared gradually over the horizon. While the earlier tremors had shaken us, I couldn't help but feel a tad bit excited. Things were going in our favor again. The base itself was built below ground in a valley, with the ground rising all around. It was a perfect place for helicopters to deploy from. Though as we entered the location proved also to be hazardous. The quakes had apparently causes land slides, with had fallen on the base itself. The place was wrecked.

"We're supposed to find gear and helicopters here?" Sam asked, eying the wreckage.

"The area would've been protected from shockwaves." Sgt. Anderson killed the engine. "So stay hopeful." We all stepped out of the Humvee. The administration building was still standing, but the barracks were obliterated.

"Don't concern yourself with that." Sgt. Anson told me. "We need to go search for helicopters with the pilots."

"Sir." I nodded. As it turned out, the group of 'pilots' was all civilians, save one who proudly wore a uniform announcing him as a marine helicopter pilot. I felt glad and worried at the same time. On one hand, this complicated things because I highly doubted civilians could handle a helicopter in the middle of a war zone (the raiders and Lazurians might come back, we had to remember that), but at least the marine pilot could train them. But we didn't have too much time for training…

"So soldier, you flew combat missions before?" I looked up to see Sgt. Anderson addressing the marine.

"Nah, I was 13 when the Great War was going on. But I've been in enough exercises. So what unit do you come from?"

"18th Heliborne." Anderson answered.

"So your specialized deployment huh? I can keep up. The marines had pretty much the same helicopter maneuvers, just different training and objectives."

"But can you teach the other pilots?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, I really don't want my life to be in their hands." Sam added.

"I can try, but remember the fuel situation." He warned. We all sighed. We had so much to do, but little to accomplish it with.

"What did the rest of you fly?" Anderson addressed the remainder of the group.

"Uh…most of us just flew regular civilian helicopters." One of them admitted sheepishly. I silently cursed. Chinooks were very different from standard civilian helicopters. There was balance, engine power, weight placement, and a couple of other things. I was a grunt and I knew these, but some of these pilots probably didn't understand. Damn.

"Damn." Sgt. Anderson echoed my thoughts.

"There are the helicopters." Sgt. Anderson pointed out. I looked up. They were there all right. Funny how I it seemed like I'd never seen them before. Must've been a side effect of being reassigned. The CH-47 Chinook: the standard transportation helicopter for the Rubinelle military. It served in all branches, with varying roles. In the Army in Marines it served as a quick way to move troops or artillery pieces to the front lines. In the air force, it was a workhorse, carrying tons of supplies. The navy also deployed them from cruisers as rescue craft.

"Beautiful." Sgt. Anderson commented. Each branch had a certain variant; this was the air force variant. It was bulkier compared to the army version, but then again they did have different jobs. I also doubted it had any door weapons or stealth technology. But neither of those would help much in the current time and place.

"We're taking three of them." Sgt. Anson reminded us. Three? I counted 7 pilots. Each Chinook had a crew of three. So that would leave one Chinook to be manned by one man…

"I'll check the engines in each one." The Marine pilot volunteered. The civilian pilots all mulled around, observing the helicopters. I felt a slightly warm feeling. It reminded me of how things were back at the base. Now, they weren't particularly fun days, but they were always better then things could ever be now. I circled around one to the side door. There was a mark on the side that read '555th Transport Company' under the painted logo for the RAF. Maybe we could paint over that…

"I missed these things." Sam came up behind me.

"Really? Didn't you piss yourself during sky diving training?" I stifled a laugh at the memory.

"I thought my chute had broke!" He punched me in the shoulder. I laughed and clutched my shoulder. Ah, things were getting closer to normal. The door flew open.

"Come look at this!" The Marine pilot waved at us. "Sergeant!" He called. We both climbed up into the cool, dark interior. Near the back, a winch meant for lifted heavy goods hung from above the ramp. If we took the hook off, we could use it to rappel down. Aside from that, my attention was taken by the vast amount of crates stored in the back.

"What do we have here?" Sam grabbed a lid and tried to pry it off. It wouldn't budge. I gave him a hand, and we managed to get the lid off.

"What is it?" Sgt. Anson came up. We both peered into the crate.

"Hot damn!" Sam grabbed one of the rifles and brought it out. It was equipped with some of the latest attachments. He set it back down and moved to the next crate. This one had explosives, mostly C4 and grenades. The next had a ton of ammunition in it. This had to be an arms shipment. "Let's see what's in box number 4!" We removed the lid.

"Huh?"

"Woah." Sam commented. This box had uniforms and vests inside.

"Let me see that." Sgt. Anson demanded. He took the uniform and glanced at the patch. "Hmph." He commented. Sgt. Anderson stuck his head in.

"Hell, there's got to be 200 rifles alone in each of these." He said. Sgt. Anson tossed him the uniform.

"This was a shipment for Special Forces operating in the island regions. The full deal: explosives, ammo, gear, and I'm sure there's communication gear in here somewhere."

"Well…well…" Sgt. Anderson thought about this and then started grinning. "Looks like we got all the gear we need to restart boys!" He clapped his hands together.

X With Tim X

"This place is fucked up." I stated the obvious. Pretty much all the hangers were caved in. So when Stone had left with another group to find a jet, I had doubted they'd have any luck. But helicopters didn't rest in hangers; they sat under the sky. So unless a meteor fell on them or a shockwave knocked them over, they were good to operate. The storage areas sure as hell weren't around, so we'd have to take the munitions straight from other birds.

"Stay on guard." One of the soldiers accompanying us said. "Survivors tend to be jumpy." Right…as if anyone could survive this long here. The attack helicopters were stationed right by the administration building. And they all looked fine.

"Now the big question: how the hell do we get the weapons off those birds and back to ours?" Sarah wondered.

"We have trucks on standby ma'am." One of the soldiers suggested.

"All right…" I mused. "Let's see… I guess we could-

"Down!" One of them grabbed my collar and roughly dragged me behind the helicopter.

"Gah, what are you-

"Quiet!" The soldier cut her off, peering around the side of the helicopter. He grabbed his radio. "Be advised, possible contact inside the administration building, repeat, we aren't alone here. They had seen somebody, damn. I guess people could survive. "Stay down, let us handle this." The soldier motioned to his teammates and they all stood up and skirted around the helicopter. One of the jeeps pulled up and the gunner on top took aim. The soldiers silently stalked towards the building under the cover on the gun. One stayed behind as a guard.

"Are these those raider bastards you talk about?" I asked.

"Possibly." The soldier breathed. We both watched the show with a slight sense of excitement. The action seemed a lot cooler up close. They paused in front of the door to the building, but the door opened and a pair of hands stuck out.

"Hands up! Don't move!" One of the soldiers yanked the other door open and they tossed the guy to the ground.

"Wait a second…" Sarah recognized the suit he was wearing.

"That's a crew member." I realized. His suit was exactly the same one worn by the guys back at base that usually armed and refueled the Apache.

"Out, all of you!" Another soldier ordered. In all, they dragged 7 people out of the building and had them lying on the ground. They all wore the same crew gear, and they all looked starved. The soldiers quickly started checking the rest of the building. Sarah and we walked up to wear the crew members were lying face down.

"You maintain these helicopters don't you?" She asked. They all looked up at us. The pilot in question shook his head and motioned to the ones beside him.

"Yeah…you pilot one?"

"No, these are just costumes." I snorted. Dumbass.

"Ok, buildings clear." The soldier emerged and started to un-cuff them. "Sorry folks, standard procedure." He apologized to them, although he sure as hell didn't sound sorry.

"We've been hiding here since the bombings." One of them explained. "But food ran out two days ago. None of us knew how to fly."

"Ain't been no bombing." One of the soldiers told him. "Long story short, worlds gone. Your welcome to come with us though." They gawked at him. "See the sky?" He pointed up.

"Hey, look." Sarah cut in. "We're piloting an Apache, but its pretty hard to rearm and refuel it ourselves. Can you help?"

"Sure." One of them stretched. "Just show us which one is yours." The soldiers shrugged and wandered off to report the encounter. Damn, it looked like we'd have to explain all of this to them.

X With James X

To say we were lucky would've been an understatement. All the helicopters lined out had supplies in them, supplies which we were now taking for our cause. How it would be sorted out, we weren't sure. But at the moment, our only concern was getting it back to camp. Now here was the fun part: we would be flying. Fuel was low, yes, but at the same time there wasn't enough room in the Humvees to carry all of it. They loaded what they could on top of everything else in the three of the birds that were being prepped. We would make a round trip if needed, but we were taking all of these supplies back.

"Satisfactory." Sam gave a little tug on the strap. For safety reasons, we were nailing down the crates. Sam and me would travel in the helicopter with the Marine pilot and two of the civilian pilots. I remembered that this could be dangerous; inexperience and possible overloading was very hazardous. But taking risks was part of the job. Sgt. Anderson and Peter would ride in another bird, and Sgt. Anson would accompany the last one, which would be flown by one man. That was dangerous ground.

"I thought I would be flying." One of the civilian pilots complained as he shoved a box out of the way. He would be the crew chief; looking out the ramp for possible threats and making sure the bird didn't get too heavily damaged.

"You're job back here is extremely important." I said. "It's more about knowledge then flight skill."

"I ain't a soldier, I'm tour guide." He complained.

"You are now." Sam told him.

"All right then! Do all birds hear me?" The Marine pilot got on the radio. I could see the pilot beside him paling slightly.

"I hear you."

"Loud and clear." They both sounded nervous.

"Okay, I know you both ain't got nothing but a weekend course, but we'll have to make due with that. Is the cargo and everyone buckled down?" Sam, the pilot, and me all took a seat. Once the replies came back from the other helicopters, it was time. "Alright," He turned at us. "My name is Sgt. Carpenter and I will be your pilot for the evening." He grinned. "Now lets get this show on the road." He pushed the button to start the engine. There was a low whine that began to grow into a heavy whirl. Through the windows I could see dust was beginning to be thrown up. The blades on the helicopter beside us were also in full swing.

"Home sweet home eh?" Sam stamped his boot on the metal floor.

"No errors or problems." The co-pilot was looking at the various gauges and meters.

"Report in, any problems?"

"Nada."

"Nothing."

"Great." Carpenter said. "Lift off." He pulled back on the stick. The helicopter shifted and there was a familiar light feeling. The helicopter rose steadily. I peered out the window to see the vehicles in the column getting smaller and smaller. The other helicopters rose, although slower. "Steady now." The pilot stopped ascending. The helicopter hovered in place.

"We can hear the frame moaning." One of the pilots in the other helicopters said fearfully.

"These things are reinforced, so quit whining!" We could hear Sgt. Anderson yelling at the pilot over the radio.

"Rotating 50 degrees east." Sgt. Carpenter said. The helicopter shifted. I looked out the window again. All three helicopters were elevated and facing the same direction. The convoy below was already moving out. "All right, 15 minutes east and then 20 minutes south. Keep your birds level. We ready? Ok!" With that, he pushed forward on the stick. The cargo shifted slightly, but stayed in place. "Yee-haw!" And with that, we flew off.

X With Tim X (Authors warning, this next part may be a bit awkward to read)

I watched as the helicopters gradually got smaller and smaller and disappeared over the horizon. Lucky bastards were getting to fly, yet here we were on the ground. I snorted.

Eh, at least we'd got something decent out of it. After the crewmembers got over the shock (witch had taken a long time, drama queens) they had agreed to come with us. Aside from them, we were also caring vast amounts of fuel and ammunition. We had enough supplies to fly that thing for days. They hadn't found a plane for Stone though. Ah, one of the other parties probably found something. What did I care? The Apache was fit to fly, which was all I cared about.

I glanced beside me and frowned slightly. Sarah was sitting there up straight with her arms rested on her legs and a casual smile on her face, which was red and had a bit of sweating starting to drip down. Part of the reason I loved and respected was for her strength. And I honestly doubted there was any other woman who could so easily deal with such a problem. In truth, there had been a few 'incidents' over the years. But for the most part, Sarah kept her bladder problem hidden. Hell, Kim didn't even know. She always usually had ways to deal with it.

She never even acknowledged the problem. I'd known her at least 20 years and she never once complained or tried to gain sympathy out of it. There was nothing really I could do to help, which had initially irked me, but by now I realized the best thing to do, was not mention it. Neither of us gave a damn what people thought or said about us, but for reasons I could not figure out, she did not want other people to know. Not that I could blame her; I didn't want people to know about any part of my life before I was 15. Too many bad memories…

The soldier driving yawned and glanced into the mirror. He jerked his head back at it and then looked back at us.

"Is she okay?" He asked. Stone also looked back. Damn. Her smile became replaced with a scowl.

"She's fine." I snapped. Even though he was kind enough to worry, it still was none of his business.

"Let's just hurry back to camp." She said. "I just need some fresh air." The soldier reluctantly turned back around in his seat.

"Okay…but I can stop and have a medic check you out if you need." He offered.

"Thanks, but I'll be fine." The jeep hit a bump and she tensed, though she held it. Stone looked at us a moment longer and then turned back around. I hated carpooling.

X With James X

"We're three minutes out." Sgt. Carpenter said. That was one of the great things about helicopters: they were a lot faster then traveling on land. "We'll land on the outskirt of the group." He decided. Out of habit, Sam and me drifted towards the ramp. With ease born of practice, he lowered the ramp and the Chinook made a clean touch down. The three of us walked down the ramp and away from the roar of the dying blades. A group of awed citizens and curious soldiers was already gathering. Though their attitudes quickly went to terror. We spun around. Uh oh.

One of the other Chinooks was hovered above while the other was attempting to land. It swayed and tilted dangerously. One wrong jerk and there would be a disaster. With a heavy and ungraceful thud, the helicopter landed, leaning dangerously to the side. We all held our breath. Gradually, it tilted back. The metal groaned in agony from the ordeal. I allowed myself to breath again. The other made an uneasy, but safer landing. The crowd returned to previous mood.

Sgt. Anson casually stepped out of the Chinook that had landed roughly and simply checked to see the others were in one piece. Not even that had fazed him! Then again, he'd probably seen his share of helicopter crashed.

Peter and Sgt. Anderson emerged from the last one, the former of the two visibly sighing in relief when he noticed I hadn't been on that copter.

"We bring supplies!" Sam said dramatically. "Food, weapons, and medicine." He raised his arms up. The crowd, or at least civilian portion, erupted in cheer.

"Quit show boating." I laughed.

"What? The people love it." Said innocently as the last whirl of helicopter blades died down.

"18th Heliborne, form up on me!" We both recognized the boom of Sgt. Anderson's voice. We quickly darted over. It was a full minute before the pilots stumbled out and joined us. Sgt. Anderson surveyed the small group of ragged soldiers and worried pilots. "Not bad everyone, not bad. We can really make this work if we put effort forth." There was pride in his voice, and I couldn't help but feel a little cheery at the praise. "There's gonna be a lot to do in the next few days, but we need to stick together, got it?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" It was only the uniformed soldiers who replied, but the momentum had crept into the pilots.

"Alright then, the first step is complete. And now for the difficult part."

XX Author's note XX

I apologize if that scene seemed a little strange to read. Please remember the rating of this fic and know that there was a point to that scene. For anyone who has likely already pieced the hints together, do not blurt out your theory in a review; you may spoil it.

Why is this story gonna focus on helicopter infantry? Because they are very flexible and can function in a ton of positions and operations ranging from support, to S&R, to capturing buildings behind enemy lines.

If you have an idea for the story, please share. If you have suggestions on how I may better my writing, please share. If you have an idea for a OC, please do share. IF your have none of those, at least leave a review saying 'good job' on your way out. And Happy New Year to whoever celebrates it.


	16. Chapter 15

Authors note: 450 views? I'm honored! But only 4 reviews?

X With Tim X

I kept a critical eye on the crew as they were arming the helicopter. It was their job yes, but again; I never liked being even remotely dependant on others. Though they definitely had experience; that much was clear.

"Looks like they have that under control." Sarah commented.

"I was wondering where'd you gone." She'd run off as soon as we got back, which was some 40 minutes ago.

"I was visited the medic station." She frowned. "Neither of them is awake yet." Still? That wasn't a good sign. "It's all that bastards fault when you think about it." She went on. Oh yeah, the jackass was still out there.

"Hey, he's all by himself. Let's just hope he gets eaten by coyotes or something." I shrugged. It was a moment before she responded, so I looked over to see her shift uncomfortably.

"About earlier…" She asked. "Was it really _that _noticeable?" Ah hell.

"You didn't look any different to me." I hated discussing awkward subjects.

"That's not the question."

"…Well, you did stick out a bit." She hung her head down at this. I hated seeing her worry. "But hey, there's no risk." I went on. "He had no idea what could've been wrong. There's no way he'll have guessed about…you know." She still didn't look convinced, so I stepped behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. "C'mon, your secrets safe. There is no one besides the two of us who know it. No one else! The orphanage director and the medical staff there are probably dead, so that means the only way to find out is if we tell someone." This seemed to reassure her. She yawned and gently pushed me off.

"I am acting like a little bitch aren't I?" She shrugged. "I just worry sometimes, you know?"

"I can't say I relate, but I understand what your feeling." I replied. "There are things about me I don't want anyone to know about." She smiled at this.

"Kinda funny how we've never even told each other about some stuff, huh?"

"Well, most that stuff goes back to before the orphanage. It's not like we- it's not a subject to freely talk about." I refrained from saying 'enjoyed them' because I didn't know why she had been put in the orphanage. For all I knew she'd had a happy life. She shifted uncomfortably again.

"Yeah…" Things drifted off into an awkward silence. That usually happened when we talked about our pasts. "Looks like we'll be moving soon, better get ready." She slinked off. I shook my head and followed.

X With James X

We all watched with a hint of anxiety as the Lieutenant individually observed each crate we'd brought back. It had been painstaking work to unload all of the boxes, and it wasn't any comfort that we'd have to re-load all of it. At last, the Lieutenant came over to where all of us were gathered. We straightened up to a salute; the civilian pilots cowered.

"Good job." She said at last, and I felt a string of pride. "These supplies will greatly increase our combat efficiency. You will be allowed most of it for the restoration of your unit, though we will need to take half of the AT weapons." No surprise there. Most the AT was gone from that damn monster tank. I shivered slightly. The tanks could handle other tanks fine; it was the infantry that needed them. But if we saw combat, we'd certainly need them too. That was a hazard of heliborne operations: you often had to rely on what you carried into the battlefield. If you were lucky, air support could get past enemy defenses, but they're use was limited. Not that we had any air power anyway. Just that attack helicopter and a fighter jet.

"With all due respect ma'am, that's leaving us a bit unprepared considering training expenditures." Sgt. Anderson said respectfully.

"I am aware of that, but we aware of the rest of the battalion. Your unit is not as special as you would hope." Dang, that was cold. "Your also free to use the uniforms for the unit. Any excess can be given to the civilian militias." A group of soldiers arrived and the Lieutenant nodded at several crates, which were then carted off. "The rest is yours to keep. I will find a supply officer to assign the group. Please make good use of it."

"We will use every resource to its full extent, sir." Sgt. Anson assured her.

"I hope so." The Lieutenant nodded and walked off.

"Alright boys, load the rest of the crates back up." Sgt. Anderson ordered. We held back a groan of frustration and got to work.

"So when are we going scouting for recruits?" Sam asked.

"Not now." Sgt. Anderson answered. "They'll be loading the helicopters onto trucks soon, and we'll be moving out in an hour. It'll have to wait till we settle back down for another night."

X Near the coast X

The channel that separated the warring countries of Rubinelle and Lazuria was full of islands of various sizes. Some sported resorts for when things were calm; others housed ports capable of maintaining a mighty fleet. But now the resorts were destroyed, as well of any naval bases. Several islands had quite literally sunk, and most of the water that lapped the debris-ridden shore was dirty with god knows what.

It was on this dirty shore that nearly 600 men had gathered. The raiders had seen far better days, but now they were closer to wild animals then ever. Though unconfirmed, rumors of cannibalism had spread, which greatly unsettled some of them. But all that was forgotten to them, mesmerized by the sight in front of them. Nearly 40 Landers were spread out along the shoreline, while people clad in thick black body armor unloaded the machines of war. Off in the distance, three large battleships sat on the horizon. Questions had arisen on how a non-government trade navy had such things, but the questions had gone unnoticed. At the front of the mass, stood The Beast.

The smile on his face would've been enough to scare even the toughest men, for this smile had nothing but thoughts of slaughter and blood behind it.

"I assume you are pleased by what you see?" A slightly bemused voice asked. It sent a chill down the spines of the raiders and many of them stepped back. The Beast was not intimidated, though.

"Damn right! I'd like to see dog-face's look when he sees all this!" His grin deepened.

"Hmm, you! Over here!" The man snapped at a nearby soldier, who wordlessly padded up. "Show our…friend here our newest creature." The soldier nodded obediently and guided The Beast away.

"Umm…hey." One of the raiders said uneasily, reaching a feeble hand out toward the man. His pale skin, white hair, and strange eyes easily intimidated even the toughest of them. "Mr…?

"My name is Dr. Caulder."

"Okay…Dr…Caulder. Why are you giving us all these weapons?" He scratched his head. "It is kinda suspicious that you would openly give us all this." He tried to sound suspicious, but faltered under the gauze the man put upon him. To their confusion, he pulled out a note pad.

"Fascinating, you can question simple logic despite your brutish nature." He scribbled this down. This greatly unsettled the raiders. Their fear was distracted however, when a wave of shock and amazement rippled through them and they all turned their sights.

Coming out of a Lander, was the largest tank they'd ever seen.

X With James, several hours later X

"This is creepy man." Sam rubbed his hands together near the fire. After a days travel, we had the misfortune of wandering into another one of those 'dark patches'. The sky was pitch black and it was impossible to see in front of you. After a few hours, we'd been left with no choice but to hunker down for the night, and pray we'd get out tomorrow. From what the patrols had found, we were on the edge of a shallow lake. There was also a river on our flank, although the dark and murky nature deterred everyone.

"Seems like an odd time for recruitment." Peter agreed. Dismissing the surroundings, tonight (it seemed like night anyway) we would find and start training recruits for the helicopter detachment. He should be coming back to get us any minute now.

"You think we'll found anybody who can actually succeed?" I asked. "I have doubts any of them can get better then Sam."

"Hey!"

"Agreed, none of the civilians will understand the full extent of what they're getting into."

X With Tim X

I'd never been afraid of the dark, but holy fuck this place was creepy. Our guide had mentioned some shit about denser debris in the atmosphere of something. The helicopter had a searchlight, but there was no fucking way we could fly in these conditions. With nothing else to do, I'd allowed Sarah to drag me to the medic tent, which was lit by lanterns.

Those kids weren't doing any better still. To sum it up: they were unconscious, had a high fever, were blowing chunks out each end, and were practically all skin and bones. According to the doc, Eddie would never fly again, given that they'd probably have to amputate his legs soon.

"Kids a shrimp, good image for the air force." One of the doctors had said sarcastically.

"He's a reservist, cannon fodder, that quantity over quality bullshit." I had responded.

"That headache policy? Figures." The medic had snorted. For healers, some of them weren't very happy. Then again, who liked wiping asses for a job?

"So you've said they've been throwing up, so they were awake?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"Afraid not." One of the nurses said sadly. "They have no control really." Sarah shook her head.

"What a waste." She commented. She stared at the two of them lying side by side.

"Something on your mind?" I asked. She shook her head. "No, it's nothing." She got up and left.

X With James X

"Well, at least you're no longer the worst in the unit." Peter said.

"Shut up." Sam growled. Peter had a point; the volunteers assembled didn't look anything like the soldier type. Each Chinook could carry 30-40 combat troops, and we were given two of the helicopters. That meant at least 60 men. By my last count, only 46 people had shown up.

We had chosen to discard our old uniforms for the fresh ones. They were supposed to create a sense of unity within the unit and make us distinguishable from the other troops. I had to admit, the Special Forces had some pretty fancy equipment. Sgt. Anson was standing a few feet away. Full uniform, black gloves, goggles, and a bandana on his face covered every inch of his dark skin. I'd questioned to need for the bandanas, and Sgt. Anderson had said it was temporary; we'd discard them later. They would've made us appear threatening during search and rescue ops. We were wearing them this one instance just to intimidate the recruits. There was no room for softness; we had to instill toughness and fearlessness in them quickly.

I again surveyed the group in front of us with my eyes. Of the 46 that had down up, 4 were female, the rest male. 30 of them appeared to at least be 20, while 8 of them looked to be barely 16 (for comparison, I was 22). The other 8, somewhere in-between. Of all of them, only 5 appeared to be fit enough for basic training. I felt dismayed. There was no way we'd get an optimal fighting force from this bunch. For the time being, they were just lounging around in a mix of plain clothes.

"I feel sorry for the poor bastards." I could hear the amusement in Sam's voice. "Bigfoot is gonna have a surprise for them." I realized he was right. Sgt. Anderson did have a habit of scarring new recruits…

X 2 years earlier X

_I nervously shifted and balled my sweaty fists, watching, as everyone else did similar. Today had been a divergence from the training we'd been doing for the past week. When we'd arrived at the firing range, Drill Sergeant Wilkins had informed us we'd competed this leg of our training, and were to report for heavy weapons training. Here we were standing at another range, waiting for the instructor to arrive. _

_ While there was a certain bit of nervousness of breaking a habit, I couldn't help but feel a little excited; heavy weapons were some of the more fun looking equipment._

_ 'Being a soldier isn't about fun!' My drill instructor from my first week and basic training forced his way back into my head. I straightened up. We were here to learn how to preserve the lives of our brothers and effectively defeat the enemy, not for 'fun'. My nervousness set back in as several minutes passed. It was quiet, very quiet. This quiet was certainly interrupted by the deafening roar of machine gun fire just inches away. Though scared, I had the common sense to do the logical reflex: hit the dirt. Everyone dived and covered their heads as the sound went on and the smell of burning gunpowder surrounded us._

_ And just as quickly, it was over. I stayed down, expecting more. When nothing happened, I risked a peak up. Standing behind everyone was easily one of the largest men I'd ever seen. A large machine gun was resting against his shoulder and spent shell casings covered the floor. _

_ "What the hell are you all doing on the floor?" The man asked casually, spitting to the side. "Well?" He demanded. We all stood up, a difficult task seeing as my legs felt like jelly. "So why are you all here?" He went on. No one answered. "WELL?" He yelled. He pointed to one of the nearby recruits. "You! What are you all doing here?" _

_ "Hev-heav-" The recruit straightened up and readjusted the pitch of his voice. "Sir! Heavy weapons training, Sir!" The man did not seem amused. _

_ "So you're the new batch? That's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard!" He roared. "You all cower at blanks, what are you gonna do when you see the real things? Piss yourself?" He looked at us. "WELL?" _

_ "No sir!" We all echoed. There were still a few high pitches throughout the group. The man looked satisfied. _

_ "Very well then. My name is Sgt. Anderson, and I will be your heavy weapons instructor in the following weeks. You may fear these great weapons now, but by the time I'm finished with you all, you will learn to worship this sound. Heavy weapons are a vital part of this unit. You will have nothing to fight with but what you carry into the field, and heavy weapons will be the only thing to help you keep even tide with the enemy. Do you understand this?" _

_ "Sir, yes, Sir!" _

_ "Good!" He barked. "This ain't gonna be no picnic, and I ain't holding anybodies hand, so get use to it! The point of the title 'heavy weapons' is that these weapons are difficult to carry. Before we go on, you will need to prove you are strong enough. Now all of you drop and give me twenty!"_

X In the un-glorious present X

"I wish I had a camera." I grinned under the mask. "These poor people won't know what hit them." Sgt. Anderson could be a very warm person, but when training, he was ruthless. As if summoned by the memory, Sgt. Anderson appeared beside us, silent and towering forebodingly in the black attire.

"Your gun, Corporal." He held out a big hand towards me. I bit surprised, I handed him my rifle. I watched as he unlatched the safety and approached the crowd, which went silent at the sight of him approaching. For a moment, he stared at them. Then he raised the rifle. They all screamed and ducked as he pulled the trigger. The bullets flew over their heads and into the deep darkness behind them. When the gun went empty, he tossed it back. I caught it with shaking hands. Those hadn't been blanks.

"Why are you all laying on the ground? WELL?" He bellowed. They were all still cowering. "WELL?" He repeated louder. The first man to stand was fit, and maybe about thirty. While uneasy, he did not appear scared. Something about him spoke bravery and experience. "Why were you on the ground?" Sgt. Anderson demanded of him.

"Taking cover is the logical action if someone is shooting at you, whether you're armed or unarmed." He replied in a strong voice. He'd done better then we had in training, so he already had my respect.

"That is a damn good answer!" Sgt. Anderson said. "You all passed the common sense exercise. I least I am not stuck with a bunch of dumbasses." The rest of them took this as a sign it was safe to stand. It was quite obvious half of them had wet themselves, and worse if my nose was correct. Sgt. Anderson didn't seem to notice. "Before we start, let me make one thing clear: I will give you no mercy, because there isn't any time for mercy. If you want to leave, go now, and I won't hold it against you." Three of them took off running, surrendering whatever was left of their pride. Again, he did not seem to notice.

"You are here, because you believe you have what it takes." Sgt. Anson spoke for the first time, surprising them. "Understand this: there is no fun in this job. There is misery, pain, hunger, and stress inscribed with every moment. By joining, you are giving up your right to be happy." He told them. It was the truth. You submitted yourself to all that when you joined, but in doing so you gained a sense of pride and accomplishment when you saw how your actions helped others. But this was something they'd have to find out for themselves.

"Are you still sure you want to stay?" Sgt. Anderson questioned. Another batch ran off, taking with them more hope we had of starting this unit. Neither Sgt. Anson nor Anderson gave a damn.

"From now on you will refer to us with 'Sir' at the beginning and end of each sentence." Sgt. Anson told them. "Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir." Some of them replied half-heartedly.

"WHAT?" Sgt. Anderson bellowed.

"Sir, yes sir!" They all stammered loudly. If this was too much for them, we were by all means fucked; all this was the very basic of soldiering.

"My name," Sgt. Anderson went on. "is Sergeant Anderson. This is Sergeant Riley. If you have a problem, you talk to us. If we are unavailable, talk to the Corporals." He pointed to us. I straightened myself up as they all stared, then I realized I forgot to reload. No one noticed though. "I'm sure Corporal Coleman, Coleman, and Garcia will be happy to help you." He pointed to each of us in turn. "Do we have any questions before we begin?" A feeble hand went up towards the end of the remaining line. "Yes? Spit it out!"

"What-what is the exact job of this unit?" He asked. Sgt. Anderson turned around and then back and pointed at him.

"That! That is a damn good first question. I like that!" The boy in question nervously shifted. "We are a special operations force of the Rubinelle army." Sgt. Anderson said. "We do the sabotage, the rescue, we are some of the first in!" He exclaimed. He paused and looked at the faces as the whole lot of them. Perhaps for the first time, he realized how scared they were. "Hmm…I think a story will explain our job more." He decided. At this, they all looked both relieved and curious.

"This is going to be good." I said. I already knew what story Sgt. Anderson was going to tell; he'd said the exact same thing when we were fresh. It had been a good story, and I'd always wanted to hear it again.

"Sit down, sit down." Sgt. Anderson ushered. They all gathered in a hushed group. The three of us sat at the side. "Now, we," He motioned to himself and Sgt. Anson, "were very active during the Great War." As expected, this easily captivated most of the younger ones, although it made the older ones uneasy. There were probably unhappy memories accompanied with that war. "During the course of the conflict, we operated from the RNS _Silver Fox,_ a navy cruiser. Both sides carried out thousands of air raids again the other, and when one of our planes went down, that was our call." They all leaned in closer.

"We'd brave any danger." Sam said.

"We'd brave any danger and fly into enemy territory to rescue our pilots." Anderson said.

"MiGs." I whispered.

"AA." Peter whispered.

"Die any second." Sam gave a faux yawn.

"The helicopter would plunge into enemy territory, dodging MiGs and AA, and the whole while we hung on in the back, knowing that we could die in a fierily explosion any second." Anderson banged his fists together to make a point. The last part greatly disturbed them. "We fought in all places imaginable: cities, plains, forests, we even had to rescue a pilot that had crashed in a zoo! We fought their army, we fought their police departments, we fought any armed civilians; every second there was spent killing." Again, they seemed uneasily. He was trying to make a point, same as he had made to us: there would be blood on your hands one way or another.

"We served on P.O.W. rescue missions." Sgt. Anderson took over. "We would storm directly into an enemy's base. Casualties were an average of 19 percent." I highly doubted any of them realized that 'casualty' was a broad term that could easily refer to simple injury. "The government considered these figures were mildly unsettling, but manageable." That was a way of saying no one would be surprised if you get hurt, though they will still care.

"When we weren't doing that, we were serving as a quick reaction force." Sgt. Anderson went on. "When we received the call, we were off to whichever island was under attack. We spent nights taking cover from enemy shelling. We juggled all these job for weeks, and then there was the Lazurian siege…" He immediately captured to complete attention of them all. Even a few curious soldiers had paused.

"Only the most effective and prestigious units were selected." Sgt. Anson informed them. "Our goal was to establish a beach head for the eventual planned occupation of Lazuria. This area was the only area of coastline not to be locked down."

"Right, and the first step were for an airborne assault. We were some of the first in." They all stared at him in awe. "The whole brigade flew over the city to the east with the objective of capturing an air field they had there. We watched 8 helicopters go down on the way, but ours made it. We destroyed most the aircraft on the ground and seized the base. Thanks to us, the air force and navy air wings met little resistance when they were softening the beaches. And thanks to that, the Marines established a small area for us to start funneling in troops. The air force took over the base, and then the real fight began." He looked up and off into the distance. There was something about the sight that just fueled my curiosity to know everything that had happened during the war.

"The whole battle raged for 100 days." Sgt. Anson told everyone.

"100 days of bloodshed." Sgt. Anderson said quietly. "We flew a variety of missions; each day was a new fight. It wasn't till the 4th week in that each side reached a gridlock in the center of the city. For the next 50 days the front line never went more then 4 miles in either direction. Both sides were locked there. The entire time ships traded fire in the sea and both air forces bombed the enemy lines. When one of our pilots went down, we were there."

"Any pilots shot down had little means to defend themselves." Sgt. Anson told us.

"Aye, just a pistol and a small radio. They knew that their time was limited as soon as they were hit. We were their one beacon of hope. Every second that they spent behind enemy line they spent praying for us. We always answered, no matter the risk to ourselves. At times, we lost whole companies, just for the sake of one or two pilots. We lost so many men during those times, and some of them we never even saved the pilots. At first, they hung on our souls, but then we just stopped caring." There was shock written on all of their faces at the thought that they didn't care. "But we never forgot. Hell, when we were captured, the first thing I did was yell down the cellblock for information. We remembered each pilot's name that we'd failed to retrieve."

"Pilot extraction was not our only mission." Sgt. Anson pointed out.

"Huh? Oh, right…" Sgt. Anderson scratched his head. "Got a little caught up in the memories there…" I noticed Sgt. Anson hang his head down and turn around. Did he regret those failed missions and dead teammates? "Now, there's this great river that runs along the east side of the city. In the middle of this river, is this big industrial island. The bridges were destroyed pretty early on, so there was only one way in. To this day, I haven't a fucking clue why so many died over that island. We spent a full month and a half there, never sleeping, dodging enemy planes, and shooting at the enemy helicopter troops. We were isolated; half crazed, and had lost all sense of time. More then half the unit was slaughtered for that island. Both sides gave up once the last building fell. Nothing was gained, but a lot was lost." By this time, his voice had softened to a level we'd never heard before. He had told this story before, but not with this much detail of emotion. It was captivating.

"We also operated with the naval forces operating on the coast." Sgt. Anson took over while Sgt. Anderson reminisced. There was nothing different in his voice. "When a ship would go down, we were responsible for helping rescue any crew members who survived."

"Ah yes, old Canaris." Sgt. Anderson snapped back into the land of the living. "Admiral Canaris commanded the 14th Rubinelle fleet, which was responsible for supporting the landing forces. He led the fleet from the Hellhound, the mightiest battleship ever built. Nothing has been built to compete since then. The Siege was a chance for many officers to make a name for themselves. He was no different. But yeah, we worked with his fleet. We launched off one of his cruisers, the RNS _Full Moon_. Funny name, I know, it was actually a nickname because the ship was with the 7th Fleet originally. Its squadron got slaughtered and it took damage. Sailed home using only the moon to guide it. Anyway, every morning we'd fly off the deck and behind enemy lines to destroy their artillery batteries. Be warned!" He waved a finger in the air. It was at this moment that I noticed that we were drawing quite a large crowd. Dozens of other soldiers were listening intently to the story. All eyes were on Sgt. Anderson. "The Lazurians excel in artillery; it's deadly, and they have an unlimited amount of it."

"Always expect artillery when facing them." Sgt. Anson interjected. "They never attack without artillery."

"Aye. We never changed a damn thing." Sgt. Anderson shook his head. "Those three tasks dominated our lives during the first 70 days of the siege, and then things reached a climax."

"Efforts by the air force to stall reinforcements had proved effective, but casualties began to rise. We hadn't secured nearly enough beach head to land enough troops to defend such a large assault."

"7 Divisions." Sgt. Anderson said. "They sent 7 divisions to encircle and destroy us. It was do or die time. Either we broke out and took the city, or we got slaughtered. The first battle was in the sea. 3 Lazurian fleets surrounded the 14th and intended to sink it. They all got slaughtered. Admiral Canaris led the 14th and sunk all the Lazurian ships. His own fleet took damage and had to pull out, but he left a bruise. Naval power was no longer a factor in the siege. God rest his soul. He died about 6 years ago and one of his junior officers took command. No telling if the ship survived the meteors."

"We had less then a month to defeat the enemy." Sgt. Anson took back over. "The commander in charge of the landing forces realized the only hope was a final push. We were to be the one of the most vital units in this plan."

"The plan was to completely knock out enemy AA, flatten the front with our air force, and blitz them with our remaining ground forces. It was our job to take out the AA. I still remember that morning. The General talked to us all personally, telling us that the future today lay in our hands. We were all prepared to die if it meant completing that mission." He paused for the longest time yet, seemingly forgetting we were all there. It took a moment, but he glanced up and realized he had an audience. He quickly summoned more volume into his voice. "We plunged directly into the lion's den that time. Right over their heads."

"While some groups were successful, others were not." Sgt. Anson informed us. "Our helicopter was shot down near an arms plant."

"Only a few of us stepped out from the wreckage." Sgt. Anderson shook his head. "We were smack dab in the center of their sights. We only held out 10 hours. Only 6 of us were left to surrender."

"We spent the final days of the war in a P.O.W. camp north of the city." Sgt. Anson said.

"Once we failed, the whole thing fell apart. We spent so many lives gaining all that ground, only to lose it in less then a week." Sgt. Anderson shook his head. "I'm honestly glad I did not witness it. It was over; they held the beach. Another attempt to invade would cost millions of lives more. No one could find the will. Armistices were signed two months later, and we went home a week after that."

"It was the last combat mission we've ever flown." Sgt. Anson informed us. So they'd never taken part in another mission since then…there was a hushed silence in the audience. No one could find words.

"Now." Sgt. Anderson's voice returned to normal and he addressed the recruits directly. "I don't expect any of you-" He paused and looked back at the three of us, "to do anything like that. In fact, I pray you don't. That war was the most horrible thing anyone could experience. It is impossible to be proud for surviving…this right here-" He motioned into the sky, "is nothing. Count your blessings that you were born now and not then." Never before had I ever saw my life so different. Never before had I considered the name we had to live up to in this unit. He had spoken the way only someone who had seen hell itself could've spoke. Slowly, very slowly in fact, the audience evaporated back into the night. The recruits were scared out of their minds; I could see it. I'd be amazed if anyone stayed now.

"We will ask one more time, do you still wish to join." Sgt. Anson stood firmly. I watched the group. This was it, the moment that was see or break our goal. I expected them all to flee, but no one got up. I could see their resolve stiffening and they all stood up straight and tall. The salute was sloppy, but had a powerful impact.

"Ah, put you hands down." Sgt. Anderson waved. "I ain't nothing special, I was just doing my job. So you all want to stay?" The commanding tone rung out in his voice, strong as ever. It sent a jolt through me and I stood as straight at ever. "We got a lot of ground to cover then." He declared. "First things first, lets see how many pushups you can all do!"

X With Tim, the following morning X

I hated mornings. And I hated morning rituals even more.

"This is degrading." I complained, lifting up to lantern to observe the flame.

"There's no shame in this." Sarah told me, pacing just a few feet ahead. The glow from the camp was getting smaller behind us.

"Why can't you just pee behind the tent?" I yawned. I could be sleeping right now.

"Do you know how nosey people are there? I don't want someone gawking at me." She huffed.

"Then why'd you wake me? You can carry this damn thing yourself."

"I wanted company."

"That's just weird."

"It's a girl thing."

"I'm not a girl."

"You act like one sometimes."

"That was uncalled for!" I objected. She just started laughing.

"Oh, quit whining, it's not like-Ah!" She fell over and there was a splash

"Sarah?" I asked. I looked down to see her head bob above the water. She clawed for the shore and hauled herself up. Maybe it was because I was tired, or maybe because the occurrence was so random, but I just bent over and started laughing. She huffed again.

"That isn't funny!" She gave me a playful shrug.

"Is to me." I laughed. "What are you complaining about? You needed a bath anyway. You reek." I laughed, which turned into a yelp as she pushed me into the water. I sputtered and came back up to see her laughing on the shore.

"You smell worse, so you needed one too." She started giggling.

"Bah." I muttered, clawing my way up. A cold gust of wind caught me and nearly froze me solid. Sarah stopped too and rubbed her arms.

"As fun as that was, maybe we should go back and dry off." She suggested.

"Amen to that." I muttered. We quickly set off back for the camp.

"Kinda like the times we broke into the community pool, huh?" She tried to inject some humor into the situation.

"Yeah, expect there was hot summer nights. Why the fuck didn't anyone warn us that there was a lake?" I muttered. Didn't they know people could drown?

"Maybe they didn't see it?" She suggested.

"Yeah right." I snorted. "Christ." It was hard to keep my teeth was chattering by now. I covered my face as someone shined a light at us.

"Went for a swim?" One of the soldiers guessed. There were 4 of them walking over.

"Didn't know there was water out there." I snapped back.

"Yeah, couple of our guys got a bad surprise as well." He shrugged. "You should hurry back to camp. Sickness is the leading cause of death now behind bullets."

"Wonderful." I muttered.

"Should we call a ride for you?" He offered.

"Nah, walking should warm us up." Sarah rejected the offer. The soldier shrugged.

"Suit yourself, but-" One of the men behind him grabbed his soldier urgently. "Huh?" The soldier pointed out and we all followed his finger. Normally, there should've been complete and utter darkness. Though there was something else in that direction. It was a thin glow, which quickly came to resemble headlight. "Shit, both of you get back!" He ordered. Two of the soldiers grabbed our arms and dragged us off a distance.

"Stay put, you armed?" He asked. I patted the pistol in my leg holster. He nodded. "Good, keep your head down, they might not see you." Who were they anyway? As the light got closer, the squad fanned out in a range just out of the headlights. The vehicle revealed itself to be a truck, with some dark outlines in the back. I flipped the safety off on my handgun. As the truck was about to pass, the soldiers jumped from their ambush.

"Stop!" One of the barked. They shot at the tires. The truck spun around and one of the passengers in the back was sent flying. Another truck slammed on the brakes before colliding into the front of the other. Both of the engines were smoking heaps.

"Out, all of you!" One of them ordered and another circled around and dragged the dazed driver out of the driver seat. That was when I lowered my gun. They weren't armed, the trucks weren't technicals; they were all just civilians. This didn't seem to register with the soldier, who picked the driver up and shoved him on the truck before frisking him.

"They're afraid of their own shadow." Sarah muttered, watching as the rest of the civilians were lined up under the sight of fully automatic rifles.

"Alright, what are you doing here?" The team leader demanded. One of the civilians started rambling and pleading, though we were to far away to hear it. We were close enough though, to see the look on the soldiers' faces turn from suspicious to disgust.

"Excuse me?" The squad leader said coldly. His voice was so low hat we had to move up to hear it.

"If you _think_ that after what you did-" Another soldier started.

"Please!" The civilian begged weakly, getting onto his knees. "We have no where else." The dude was begging.

"Pathetic." Sarah commented. The squad leader snorted and knocked the civilian onto the ground with his boot before grabbing his radio.

"Control, this is patrol C. Wake the Captain up, he's gonna want to hear this."

XX Author's note XX

And after two chapters, we are back to the main story. I wonder who suggested incorporating civilian combatants? Not everyone can be a soldier, and no one can just earn the title by picking up a gun. The policy spelled disaster from the start. And yet, they held…

We do not know the exact details of the Lazurian Siege, or why defeat there led to the end of the war, so we are left to draw our own conclusions. The Battleship Hellhound mentioned in this chapter is not of my own mind, but an OC submitted and owned by **Skyfighter**. I assure you this won't be the last mention of the ship. If anyone is willing to submit an OC, I will gladly use it.

Please review, or leave suggestions.


	17. A New Threat I

X With James X

Today was a new day. I remembered almost immediately that we would be up early. We needed to use every second available.

"Alright, pick a tent and go wake them up." Sgt. Anderson was already getting ready for the day ahead. I nodded and stumbled out into the cold darkness. Last night had been spent pounding the basics into them and making sure they were all at least fit enough to carry a gun and 30 pounds of equipment. Unfortunately, a few had failed that last part. But we would work on it. The training session had ended when one of the recruits passed out. To end the night, we had broken out the first crate of uniforms. Following a speech about proper care and respect for this one change of clothes, everyone had been sent off to bed, which for them was now a series of tanks erected near our own.

"Wakey wakey!" Sam shouted into the first tent. Dismayed groans and muffled complaints replied. I walked into the next tent.

"C'mon, time to get up." I told them. They all groaned and tried to snuggle in closer to their cots. Similar results were met in all of the tents.

"It was to be expected." Peter commented. By now there was the slow sounds of everyone getting up. They'd get use to it eventually. I just wished they'd hurry up; every second counted.

"Early to bed, earlier to rise makes a man strong, healthy, and wise." Sgt. Anderson sang as he walked past all the tents. "And the man late to rise gets thrown in the river!" He said more loudly. There was a notable volume increase of the sound of everyone getting ready. 30 Minutes later, after normal morning rituals, everyone was by the helicopters. The rest of the camp would be up for maybe two hours.

"Okay, huddle up." Sgt. Anderson motioned to the three of us.

"We'll be teaching them the basics of combat today." Sgt. Anson informed us. No surprise there; anything could happen, so defense was critical to learn. "We'll show them how to properly use the communications equipment first." He decided. He motioned to one of the crates sitting inside the dark interior of the helicopter, then to a few others. "Unload all of those." He ordered. We nodded and quickly set to work. As we approached the helicopter, Sgt. Anderson began the lesson behind us.

"Alright, let's review what we learned yesterday." There was a noticeable clang as he finished loading an ammo belt into his machine gun. There was also a scurry. I looked back to see everyone was already on the ground with their hands above their head. No screaming; no ruined pants. They were making progress already.

While we unloaded the crates, Sgt. Anderson led them through a re-run of last night, which was mainly physical exercises and the proper way to duck, crawl, and other things that may have seemed trivial, but could be the difference between life and death. When that was done, we opened the first crate. The communications gear consisted of headsets and earpieces. They were light, easy to carry, and concealable. Perfect for our job. The next hour was a bit uneventful as Sgt. Anderson and Anson showed them how to use the communications equipment and led them through basic military vocabulary and terms. They were lucky. We had had to study all these terms and pass a written test with a 100 to move on. It would be unprofessional to take a nap, so all we could do was stand there the whole time. Quite a few times, they glanced our way, perhaps marveling at how disciplined we seemed. After a verbal quiz, Sgt. Anson said the words that I'm sure most of them had been anticipating since yesterday night.

"Now you will learn the basics of using a weapon. Does anyone have previous experience with firearms?" Several hands went up. "Excluding hunting." All but one went down. Sgt. Anson pointed to him. It was the same muscular man that had gotten up first after Sgt. Anderson's 'initiation'.

"I served as a breaching expert on a S.W.A.T. team in one of the big cities." He explained. "I'm an expert with shotguns and I have experience with sub-machine guns." Sgt. Anson nodded, mentally absorbing the information. The guy had been on a SWAT team? He probably had more experience then us then. "Okay." Sgt. Anson said. "Corporals?" He turned back to us. With a nod, we broke the top off of each. We ourselves were not that different from the special force. This was perhaps the reason that within the box was the same models and variety of guns that we had had. Most of the contents were modified M4 rifles, like the ones Sam and I were using. There were also a couple of modified MP5s, like the one Peter was using. At the bottom on one crate, we found two heavy M249 machine guns, exactly like Sgt. Anderson's. At the bottom of the other, we found three sniper rifles, although I couldn't name the model. These were, for the most part, the same exact weapons we'd used ourselves.

"Alright, line up, let's see who gets what." Sgt. Anderson called.

X 40 miles away X

The patch of darkness extended far beyond the range of what anyone would've expected. Despite the chilling nature, the darkness did not weaken the raiders spirits. In fact, it reminded them of the place they had originally called home. This only caused them to be more daring and more vocal as they howled into the night. They had every right to be cocky: they were back in their game. While the motive of their supplier was still unknown, most of them didn't care. The majority of the convoy was tanks, as they all expected that all they would have to worry about was the other side's tanks.

Their numbers now sported some of the most advanced and effective gear in existence. Thick, full body, flexible armor was guaranteed to protect them from bullets more then their old gear had. They also carried new guns: a new model none of them had ever seen. Any common sense person would ask a lot of questions, but the raiders weren't infamous for their minds. Behind them lay the ruins of 5 small settlements that had cropped up after the disaster. They were already warmed up for when they found the 12th Battalion.

X Back with James X

I paced behind the group of recruits practicing maintenance of their firearms. Sgt. Anderson was yelling profanity at a group practicing their marksmanship. When we had distributed firearms, we had tried to match them with the physical appearance of the shooter. By that I mean we gave the girls and the smaller guys the MP5s, we'd given most of the rest of them the rifles. One of the older men, an experienced hunter he claimed, had taken one of the sniper rifles. None of the recruits were even close to Sgt. Anderson's size, but some of them were decently strong. Only one man had come forward and volunteered to take one of the M249s. Sgt. Anderson could fire the thing while standing at full hight, this guy wasn't that far behind, though he preferred firing it was a prone position.

All in all, after observing everyone taking turns, I rated his or her performance as below mediocre. Sure, the former SWAT member and some of those who had hunted were fairly good, but the rest of them were horrible. To start, they had an accuracy of about 40%. Second, they were slow to fire, pulling the trigger once every seven seconds. If they were to enter combat, they wouldn't even get a shot off at an enemy. I acknowledged that they were getting better, but the progress was extremely slow.

The man who the Lieutenant assigned as our supply officer had shown up a few minutes ago. I wasn't sure what his role was going to be, seeing as the supplies situation here was a bit odd. He had so far gotten the remaining uniforms and guns taken away to be distributed to the rest of the depleted battalion. His job would probably be more important later after we tallied the cost in training. I paused and surveyed the entire scene. They were learning, that much was clear. It was relieving. My doubts were beginning to evaporate.

"Your evaluation?" Sgt. Anson seemingly appeared out of nowhere beside me. Snipers could be pretty stealthy.

"Well…"I paused to get my thoughts together. "Most of them don't fire at a fast enough rate, which decreases their chances for survival. Several of them are also still scared of the sound." I observed. "Of the 35 of them, only 6 are mildly proficient with firearms." I glanced over to see Sgt. Anson nodding with each sentence. "Not to mention there's still a lot to teach them, such as anti-tank warfare, stealth, survival, and then there's the helicopters…" I trailed off. Saying all that only reminded me of the road ahead.

"Take it slow." Sgt. Anson advised me.

"I've just had a bad feeling about things since the beginning. Murphy's law." I confided. Murphy's military law: anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

"Expect the unexpected." Sgt. Anson advised me.

X With Tim X

I rubbed my hands together and stuck then closer to the fire. At least the feeling was coming back to my body. The dampness only irritated me more. I'd found out that I was out of cigarettes. Bah. I wasn't a heavy smoker really; I only went through half a pack a day. Still, there was that edge there now.

A few soldiers walked by, pausing only to stare at our drenched forms. I managed to refrain from giving each of them a 'fuck off'.

"Well woman, what now?" I asked. "First you wandered into the lake, and now this. What next?" She was still the only person I could completely stand, so there was no annoyance in my voice.

"Hmm…I don't know." she admitted. "There aren't any bars to go to, we can't wander off someplace private…we can't even leave the camp period." She gave a frustrated sigh and lay back on the ground. "Wow, it's dark."

"You just now noticed that?" I lay down beside her.

"You think of anything yet?" She changed the subject. "That factory seems to be getting awfully close."

"Didn't we have this conversation before?" I shook my head. I couldn't even tell what day of the week it was. "Not really, since when has our life been anything but day to day survival?" I shrugged. As far as I could tell, that was all life was for anyone in this damn country.

"I guess the only thing we can still do is wait till we get to that shelter and see what happens then." She sighed again and folded her arms behind her head.

"Say this shelter doesn't exist?" While it did sound like something the government would build, who was to say it was still around. Weren't meteors more destructive then nuclear weapons?

"Then I suppose we're royally fucked." She grunted and sat back up, grimacing in discomfort. "Why didn't you warn we the water was there?" She demanded.

"I was too busy complaining."

"Complaining, or staring at my ass?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Both?" She shoved me over.

"Pervert." She laughed. I gave a light chuckle, still aware there were others around. Something quickly appeared out of nowhere and barreled right into us and kicked Sarah roughly in the chest. The offender in question fell over his own foot and tumble hard.

"Hey asshole." I growled. "Watch where you're going!" I stood up and stalked to him. He was already up and dusting his pants leg off.

"You those helicopter pilots? Get ready to take off, we got an unidentified force heading towards us." And with that, he ran off.

"Wait, what?" I asked in confusion. Too late, he was gone. "Unidentified force? Lazurians?" I wondered.

"My feminine intuition says something bad is going to happen." Sarah stood up. "We probably should go wait by the helicopter."

X With James X

A number of factors contributed to hunger in this job: the lack of food, the hard labor, and not enough sleep to provide energy needed. The recruits had already learned hunger was another part of a soldier, which is why they were more then rabid when Sgt. Anderson had finally said it was time for food. They shoveled all of it in their mouths, choking in some instances. We ourselves ate at a slower pace. It was a very simple trick that made food seem much more filling and tasty.

"They're making some good progress." Sgt. Anderson commented.

"But there is still a ways to go." Sgt. Anson warned.

"What's next though?" Sam let out a belch and beat his fist on his chest.

"We need to assign roles." Peter suggested. "I'm the only medic, and James knows a bit about medicine, but one and a half medics for a 40 man unit is a bit weak."

"Good suggestion soldier." Sgt. Anson nodded. "We also need to train a demolition expert."

"I wouldn't trust half these people with an M80." Sam shrugged.

"They can learn. Anyone can learn anything if they put their mind to it." Sgt. Anderson told us. "Ah, Captain Brenner, good morning sir." I looked back the see The Captain sitting down in the seat across from us. I immediately straightened up. He looked old and over stressed as always. I wondered how hard it was having the lives of at least 2000 people in your hands.

"Good morning Sergeant." He nodded in return. "How is the training coming along?" He looked over to the recruits, all of whom were staring at their empty food trays in dismay.

"Well…they ain't no Special Forces soldiers yet, but we'll either turn into that or kill them."

"Is the unit combat effective?" He asked, ignoring the last morbid comment.

"Can they shoot a gun? Yes. Can they stand up against another enemy? Probably not that well. If we got the order, we can get them on the field. They might stand a chance against a small, lightly armed, or unorganized enemy. But anything organized like the Lazurians, we won't stand a chance against." The Captain nodded in understanding.

"Don't push them too hard, they're just civilians." He said before leaving.

"As if we had the option." I muttered.

"Don't be tough Corporal." Sgt. Anderson said sternly. "He's trying to keep the civilians safe and happy. That's a quality you don't see in most military officers." He commented. Did the term 'civilian' even exist anymore? It seemed like now anyone who could fight did fight. I'd seen it walking through camp: people taking part in drills, cleaning guns, living like any soldier would. The line between the two had definitely blurred in the past few weeks.

"What do we have here?" Sgt. Anderson pondered. I looked up from my train of thought to see the Captain moving off quickly, escorted by two soldiers. Was something wrong? "Everyone up!" Sgt. Anderson barked. We joined the rest of the curious crowd as they went to see the commotion. The closer we got, the louder the muttering. Something was wrong.

"What's the occasion?" Sgt. Anderson asked a nearby officer, a sergeant like himself.

"Those civilians from Free Haven." He spat. "They came crawling back, and now they're begging for our help."

"What?" Every unaware soldier in listening radius exclaimed the word. Free Haven? The same civilians who tricked us, used us, and accused us of being animals? Now they wanted our help?

"They can go fuck themselves, I ain't risking my life again for a bunch of-"

"Cut it soldier." Sgt. Anderson warned. Sam merely grumbled something in response. Charity was something I wasn't giving out either. We had gladly charged into battle for them, and they didn't even appreciate it. They saw us all as simple pawns, which could be killed with no real penalty. I could never care for someone who so expended life so casually.

"I got your back." I nudged Sam on the shoulder. It was hard to get a line of vision, but I managed to catch a faint glimpse of the Captain talking to a large man in a red shirt. I wonder where he'd gotten food to be that fat? A hushing motion came over we crowd and we all were quiet enough to hear the man speak.

"Please Brenner, we have no where else. We need your help." He pleaded. A ripple of discontent went through the crowd that was expressed as loud jabs at the man, being anywhere from insults such as 'lard ass' to death threats including, but not limited to, a hacksaw. Needless to say, he was watching the crowd more then the Captain. The civilians behind him looked even more terrified, as if they expected us to attack them. The Captain ignored the rambling and replied back to the fat man's request.

"Understood, pack your things, you're coming with us." This caused muttering within the troop population. "If we can get the factory up and running we should be able to get food."

"Food?" The fat man asked hopefully.

"Yes, if you need information, ask Dr. Morris, I don't deal with test tubes."

"About food…" The fat man continued uneasily, "we haven't eaten in a few days- the rest was drowned up to me by the angry muttering sweeping the crowd.

"Yeah right." Sam scoffed. "He's all skin in bones." He spat sarcastically.

"There are no signs of starvation." Peter agreed. I held my tongue from saying something vulgar. They were taking advantage of us! And the Captain was going to let them stay? Where was the sense in that? Sgt. Anderson definitely wasn't pleased either.

"Back in my day, this behavior got you the firing squad, civilian or military."

"Sounds fitting." Sam commented. I didn't quite agree, nor did I disagree. I signed up to protect people, even the ones who disagreed with the military. But these civilians were just-just…

"Attack!" That single word immediately shut every up and in a flurry of motion, guns were brought to bear. I flipped off the safety on my rifle. Everyone followed the sound to see a panting soldier running up. "Captain!" He panted breathlessly. "Enemy forces are about to attack!" The Captain turned to prevent the soldier was collapsing.

"Explain." The Lieutenant demanded.

"Radar picked up a large formation of enemy troops approaching, we intercepted enemy transmissions. Enemy formations are moving into position to attack. There's currently a force heading to a industrial complex across the river." The Captain quickly absorbed this information and waved to the gathered troops.

"Get all armored units to the front! All civilians take cover in the rear." He shouted. We were caught up in the flurry of movement. Our entire group huddled to the side.

"Wh-what do we do?" One of the recruits asked fearfully. That was a good question. What could we do? Forcing his way through the crowd, the Captain appeared in front of Sgt. Anderson. They silently exchanged looks that exchanged the entire meaning.

"We understand sir." Sgt. Anderson nodded. "If they get artillery over the river, the camp in destroyed." We were going up? We were actually going up. I turned around. All of the recruits looked ready to piss themselves again.

"To the helicopters." Sgt. Anson ordered. "Now!"

"We're fucked." Sam said palely as we all forced our way through the crowd.

"We ain't got a choice." Sgt. Anderson said gruffly. "We can not allow the enemy to pull artillery into striking range of the camp. Hundreds could die." The last part struck a cord with me. Even if I didn't like the civilians that just shown up, I still didn't want to see the rest die. Innocent woman and children who shouldn't have to live like this…

"But who are they?" Peter raised a very important question. Lazurians? More raiders? Or could it be the same raiders…

"It doesn't matter." Sgt. Anderson said firmly. "They're attacking us, so we have to fight back. Everyone switch on your headsets." He commanded. I reached up to my ear and flicked the miniature switch. "Everyone hear me?" Sgt. Anderson's voice could now be heard clearly over the chaos. The helicopters came into view. Sgt. Carpenter was already waiting.

"We got the order to take off?" He asked.

"There's only 40 of us, so we're taking one helicopter. We got to beat the enemy to that compound."

"Everyone in the back." He waved. The recruits nervously shuffled in, taking a pair of night vision goggles on the way.

"Hold it boys." Sgt. Anderson called. The three of us turned around. He tossed a heavy AT-4 at each of us. "We're the only ones who can use those." He slung one over his back. "In the bird." Seeing as the recruits had got in first, the 5 of us got a space near the ramp with the crewmember. He looked just as nervous. Hell, even in the dark interior of the helicopter I could see the deathly pale faces. Poor kids were getting thrown right in it already.

"Helicopter company, report in." The Lieutenant's voice came over the radio.

"Copy." Sgt. Anderson replied. "This is…fuck it, we ain't got a call sign yet. This is Helicopter Company, we're getting ready to take off now." The blades above started spinning.

"Hold on tight back there folks, cause I have no idea where we're going!" Sgt. Carpentered called over the intercom. The recruits looked sick.

"You're objective is to establish a position in the industrial complex. We cannot, I repeat, can NOT let the enemy hold it. Report in when you identify the enemy." The line went out.

"We're honestly fighting?" One of the recruits asked.

"Might be soldier." Sgt. Anderson replied.

"But we just started training!" One objected.

"You need encouragement." Sgt. Anderson commented.

"If we don't do this, hundreds of innocent civilians will die." Sgt. Anson said bluntly. There was no room was sympathy now. This warning ended up being a double-ended sword: on one hand, several of their resolves clearly stiffened. Others though, looked horribly guilty.

"First actually combat mission." Sam said. He actually sounded excited. "Time to show these bastards who we are hooah?" He held out a fist. For one of the first times in days, I felt the same feeling of pride that accompanied me whenever people would randomly thank us when they spotted us on the street. We were important, more so then we'd ever been.

"They aren't killing anybody why we're here." I said firmly, sticking my hand out.

"Right, remember boys," Sgt. Anderson told us. "You are some of the best that the army has to offer." He stuck his own hand out. Peter and Sgt. Anson joined.

"Hooah!" We all echoed. The rest of the recruits watched us in wonder. The helicopter rose steadily before pitching forward. The rear ramp was still open and the camp and all its lights soon vanished into the darkness.

"Alright!" Sgt. Anderson declared loudly. "We have one goal and one goal only here: don't let these bastards get a hit on our flank. People are depending on us, we ain't gonna let them down, right?"

"Right!" The volume of the chant was enough to shatter glass.

"You people are shaking the helicopter!" Sgt. Carpenter laughed. "I got the compound in sight, they're already here." He reported grimly. "I see a ridge by the gate in, is that the drop off zone?"

"Take us in." Sgt. Anson ordered.

"Don't worry." I assured the worried-looking recruits. "Artillery is very slow to move, so it's likely only light forces there already."

"Have they seen us?" Sam asked.

"There ain't any light on this bird, so unless they have their own goggles, they'll only here us." Carpenter assured. "Bringing her in now." The back on the helicopter tilted down some. The crewmember held on to the interior. I leaned up and glanced out the ramp. A group of dense trees were below us. The helicopter carefully moved over a clear patch that was more elevated. The helicopter was brought to a stop, roughly 6 feet off the ground.

"Dismount, go, go, go!" Sgt. Anderson called. This was when it all clicked in my mind. Weeks, days, and hours of practice all came to this moment. I lowed myself off the ramp and hopped down. My boots hit the rocky ground and I pulled out my rifle. This was it. Sam and Peter dropped down beside me. The rest of the recruits made their way off the helicopter, stumbling in most cases but standing right back up. Their adrenaline was pumping; they were no longer civilians. They were soldiers.

"All boots are on the ground, we'll be on standby for exfill." The helicopter flew off, leaving all 40 of us on this small ridge. We were official behind enemy lines.

"Line up at the edge." Sgt. Anderson ordered. He all edged our way behind the rocks, looking down into the compound below. The compound itself was massive, with 2 factories, several warehouses, and an office. An 18-foot fence equipped with layers of barbwire enclosed all of it. Down below to the right was a security checkpoint; the gate had been forcibly blown apart. We turned out sights into the compound itself. I tightened my grip on my rifle when I saw a pair of figures walking over this way.

"Hold fire." Sgt. Anson ordered. The recruits reluctantly lowered their guns.

"Shoot, I could take down both of them in a sec." The former hunter repositioned his sight on his sniper rifle. How could be see through the scope with those goggles anyway?

"Quiet." Sgt. Anderson growled. The two figures got closer before stopping at the gate.

"I swear to god I heard a helicopter over here!" One of them grabbed onto the edge of the fence and stared towards us. He didn't have any goggles on from what I could see. Dumb bastard was staring right at us and he didn't even realize it. His companion smacked him on the back of the head with his rifle. It didn't look like any gun I'd ever seen. They were also laden with some heavy armor.

"The 12th is an armored battalion, they ain't got helicopters dumbass." He rubbed his hands on his face. _They knew who we were._

"They don't sound like Lazurians." Sam sounded disappointed. Sgt. Anderson stared at the men again with a grim face.

"This is the helicopter forces, anyone read?" He whispered into the headset.

"Copy." The Lieutenant's voice came back.

"Positive ID, it's the raiders sir, same bunch as before." There was a moment of silence.

"Are you certain?" She asked.

"Positive." Sgt. Anderson nodded to himself. Impossible! We'd killed the raiders and destroyed their equipment! How could they still be operating?

"Put those things down!" Peter hissed. Many of the younger recruits had taken aim at the two men. These were the same raiders who had terrorized their town and killed innocent people. I could understand their position, but they couldn't blow our cover.

"Stand down, now!" Sgt. Anderson growled. "Orders?" He requested.

"Attempt to secure the compound." The Lieutenant ordered. "It is crucial- the rest of her sentence was drowned out by a colossal noise that sent us all ducking.

"I'm blind!" One of the recruits shouted in panic. I grabbed him and shoved his face in the ground. I made a mental note to put stealth training at the top of the training list. I did realize that I couldn't see either and yanked my goggles off. The others soon got the same idea. We all peered over the rocks. One of the warehouses had turned into an inferno, with fire reaching high into the skies. They could probably see it back at camp. In the compound, raiders were quickly fleeing the firing, cursing loudly all the while.

"What do they make here?" One of the recruits asked.

"Look's like a tank manufacturing plant." Sgt. Anderson guessed. Really? How did he know that?

"Does anyone copy?" The Lieutenant demanded. We all quickly ducked to avoid being seen. At least the roaring fire would make it harder to hear us.

"We're still here, idiots blew up one of the warehouses. This is a weapons plant." Sgt. Anderson relayed the information. "I see at least 60 raiders below." He commented.

"Enemy armor coming from the road." Sgt. Anson warned. We all turned. The burning building was casting light that cut through the darkness with ease. Even over here its warmth offered a break from the freezing cold. We could actually hear the tanks before we saw them. Two advanced M2s rolled into the compound.

"Shit." Sgt. Anderson muttered. Trailing behind were three M270 MRSL rocket trucks. "Those are rockets." He explained the fresh grunts. "They can hit the camp." He scratched his chin. "Command, enemy artillery spotted, they're moving into the compound. Is our own online? We'll relay coordinates."

"Negative." The Lieutenant responded flatly. "All artillery is engaged with enemy forces crossing the lake."

"Damnit. We need support over here!" He growled, momentarily forgetting the chain of command.

"We'll try and get you helicopter support. Stand by." She got off the line. The Apache? That would work.

"Oh shit." Sam breathed. My heart froze when I saw the back of the M270s rising. They were about to fire!

"No time to wait, everyone pick a target!" Sgt. Anson ordered.

"Psst, Jimmy!" Sam motioned to me and pointed down. One of the tanks was facing away from the ridge, leaving the rear armor exposed. Sam held up two fingers. I nodded and un-slung the heavy tube. This was a trick Sgt. Anderson had taught us. Light tanks had… light armor, especially in the rear. One good hit could knock out an engine, but not the weapons. The two-point attack was a counter to this: the first rocket would weaken the armor, and the second would punch right through into the crew compartment, obliterating the crew and weapon systems.

"We got the tank." I said. Sgt. Anderson nodded. \

"Good, everyone got a target?" There was a chorus of nervous 'yes's. This would be the first time most of them had blood on their hands. "Alright, don't hesitate." He warned. "3. 2. 1. Fire!"

X With Tim X

"Bout time we got some action, I was getting bored!" I pushed the button and the blades started whirling. I didn't have much a clue what was going on, only that the raiders they had always mentioned were back. There were apparently helicopter troops over the river that need air support. They'd covered this in our own training, support for Special Forces. Though last I checked there weren't any special forces here. Why was I asking questions? There was a job to do!

"I'll show these bastards not to mess with people." Sarah growled. I raised an eyebrow. Her tone was more aggressive then I usually heard it. Ah, she probably wanted to satisfy her trigger finger itch. I pulled on the stick and the helicopter rose up. I tapped a button and the searchlight mounted on the bottom came on. Below, the new maintenance crew was giving us thumbs up. "Stay ready, we'll be back to reload before you know it." Sarah said. I banked the helicopter left and over the river.

"Try and establish radio contact." I suggested. She tried to find the channel they were on. "Can't see shit." I muttered. The searchlight barely illuminated anything. I squinted my eyes at something in the distance that seemed to be a fire. Sarah found the right channel, which seemed to be filled with nothing but gunfire. Well, they were behind enemy lines, that much was clear. I pulled the helicopter up to avoid a rise.

"Hello? Anyone copy?" Sarah asked.

"You the helicopter support?" A rough voice demanded. I remembered that voice, it was one of those two guys who the Captain had addressed about a helicopter company of something other.

"Roger, what's the situation?"

"Well, we got smoldering tanks and artillery in the compound, a lot of hostiles, and I'm stuck with a bunch of rookies." Wow, his life sucked. "Shit, additional enemy units entering the compound. We could really use a hand here!"

"Should be there any second." I told him. Sure enough, the compound came into sight. "Damn, what happened here?" I wondered. From the air, we could clearly see the whole place burning. Well, the flames were spreading anyway. Bullets streaked through the air like a light show.

"You're the group of the ridge?" Sarah asked.

"Affirmative, level everything in front of us."

"Understood." Sarah nodded and glanced back at me.

"On it." I pitched the helicopter forward and focused the search light right on the smoking remains of two tanks. I could clearly see several soldiers taking cover behind the wrecks and firing at the ridge. When the searchlight came over them, they froze like deer in headlights. Rather then do the smart thing, they stopped and stared dumbly up at us. Big mistake. The chain gun fired and tore into them, reducing the group to a heap of bloody clothes and limbs. I aimed the light further up. Two tanks towing what looked like cannons behind them. The tanks backed up, plowing into and knocking over the towed weaponry in the process. They weren't fast enough though and a well-placed Hellfire missile wrecked all four vehicles.

"Hell yeah!" There was a chorus of amazement below.

"We'll move in and search the compound." The leader reported.

"That's a bad idea." Sarah warned.

"Very." I glanced again into the compound. The flames had left one building and were already engulfing what looked like an office. "The whole place will be burning in a few minutes."

"Damn, there was some useful stuff in there. Forget it. Command? You still on the line."

"Affirmative." It was the Lieutenant. Had she been listening this whole time?

"Orders?" He requested. "The whole compound is useless to both sides. Do we call for extraction?"

"Negative." She replied flatly. "Our forces are meeting heavy resistance and are struggling to make it over the lake. Follow the road out of the compound; it should lead to the enemies flank. Cut off any retreating raiders. We cannot allow any of them to slip away. The helicopter will support you." She got off the radio.

"Hell, we're ready up here." I called. I moved the searchlight below to help guide them to the road, even though the fire provided more then enough light.

"We need a second to reorganize, go on ahead and clear the road." He ordered. All right, we first dibs.

"Copy, we're moving out." Sarah told them.

X With James X

"That was awesome!" One of the recruits commented as the helicopter flew overhead and into the darkness. I slid another clip into my rifle and knelt down. The recruits took longer to do this. There was a bang behind us. The whole place was going to blow. We had to move fast.

"We all good?" Sgt. Anderson asked, observing everyone. They were shaken by their first combat, but no one had been hit. Our ambush proved to be enough to turn the tables. Sgt. Anderson seemed to think we were good. "Hurry up and move!" He ordered. We quickly set off into the night, passing the burning remains of the towed artillery. One of the recruits paused to put a finger on it. He jumped back and shook his glove frantically.

"Ow! It's hot." He pulled his glove off. We still had a long, LONG way to go.

XX Author's note XX

Dang, what happened? When I posted the last chapter, I had 450 views. Now a week later, I have 534 views. 80 views in one week, that's the most I've ever gotten since I published this story! I guess I better thank my two reviewers; your praise apparently drew the curious to this story. Each chapter now has 14 views compared to 8 last week. Don't be shy newcomers; drop a review, or a suggestion.

I'm still accepting OC's. Names for tanks, planes, ships, I could use some names for the other members of the unit too.


	18. A New Threat II

I don't know why, but I feel the need to start doing this. I do not own the Advance Wars series. If I had there'd been a sequel by now.

XX

X With James X

We'd since put our goggles back on and were moving through the trees that ran along side the road. While speed was of the utmost importance to prevent casualties on the front lines, it was not something we really had. The recruits bumbled along, tripping constantly over roots and barely keeping a steady jogging pace. This was no good. The battle would be over before we got there!

"C'mon! Keep up." Sgt. Anderson called. The three of us followed at the back as usual, making sure no one fell behind. Through the trees I could see several bloody heaps in the road: More raiders no doubt. I wondered briefly how it must feel to be a pilot; to have certain superiority over people. I would never know that feeling. I would always be against the tide, fighting tooth and nail to avoid dying.

"I'm glad we'll never face a helicopter." One of the recruits said. Had he already forgotten about the Lazurians? We had been taught many things about Lazurians. One of which was that while artillery was their strong point, they also made damn good helicopters. Sgt. Anderson stopped rather suddenly, causing the recruit in question to bump into him and fell backwards.

"Riley." Sgt. Anderson addressed his long time friend in a calm voice. "Take the rest of the recruits and go ahead. I have to talk to this one."

"Poor bastard." Sam grinned. You'd think the kid was already a ghost judging by how white he'd turn. The other recruits learned a valuable lesson that moment: be careful what you say.

"Stay quiet and move fast." Sgt. Anson picked up his pace. The recruits bumbled along behind him in a desperate plight. At least we were moving fast. The sound of battle was reaching our ears now. It was faint, but constant. I silently hoped there would be no friendly fire incidents. Since the raiders used to same weapons and vehicles, it was hard to tell the difference. The darkness would only make it harder. And then another sound, this one closer. It was the hum of a engine, no, two engines. Sgt. Anson held up a hand and everyone stopped. He pointed down and lay on the ground.

"Down." I urged the recruits. They quickly got down. I couched low behind a tree and kept my rifle pointed at the road. Out of the corner of my eye, Sgt. Anson unhooked a grenade from his belt. Thick headlights pierced through the darkness ahead. Humvees, I realized.

"Keep your sights on the second Humvee." Sgt. Anson ordered. I lined up my sights with the two beams further back. Right before they passed, Sgt. Anson rolled the grenade onto the road. It detonated under the Humvee. While not strong enough to destroy it, it was enough to scare the squad inside. The vehicle served and hit a rough patch before skidding sideways. I saw it begin to tip before Sgt. Anson gave the order to fire.

The second Humvee had quickly picked up speed after realizing there was an ambush. The roar of 38 guns filled the night as the Humvee was torn apart. It swerved off into the woods and bounced off three trees before a large oak forcible stopped it. Smoke billowed from the hood. No one was walking away from that. We all looked at the first Humvee, lying on its roof down the road. The crushed body of the gunner was lying a few feet behind it. I motioned to Peter and two of the recruits and cautiously stepped out onto the road. We approached with cautious. I kept my eyes on the windows. I highly doubted it had been enough to kill all of them.

"That must've been one hell of a ride." Sgt. Anderson's voice rang through my headset. His massive form appeared out of the trees and approached the Humvee. The recruit from earlier followed. There didn't seem to be any movement. I got close enough hand looked for vitals.

"They're all unconscious." Peter reached the conclusion first.

"So do we arrest them?" One of the female recruits asked.

"No." Sgt. Anderson drew his pistol. There was a succession of four gunshots. "Desertion is a Capital offense. We keep moving." He walked back over to the bulk of the group. I turned to follow. The two recruits I had ordered to follow me looked horrified. Sgt. Anderson and Anson had mentioned desertion quite a few times. Though they never explicitly stated they had once had to shoot their own men.

"That's barbaric." The girl commented in a shaking voice.

"No." I told her. "Like it or not, that's part of being a soldier."

X With Tim X

"Who the fuck is where?" I demanded.

"ID, ID, something give me a goddamn ID!" Sarah yelled in frustration. We circled around above the vast plains where the fighting was. The radio was alive with talk, but no one seemed to answer us. We couldn't tell who the hell was on which side.

"Apache, do you copy?" A voice finally questioned. About damn time!

"Copy, this is Killjoy 3. We need some ID on targets." Sarah replied.

"We're a flare vehicle, we'll help targets.. Stand by." She requested. I kept circling around. There were a ton of tanks down there, some not that far apart. They couldn't even see each other. Something streaked through the air and exploded like a firework. It stayed suspended in air, illuminated three light tanks below. "Targets marked, Killjoy 3." She finished.

"Engaging." Sarah reported as I spun the helicopter around. A volley of rockets destroyed all the armor. "Targets neutralized." Sarah finished.

"Copy. Marking another target." Another flare soared through the air and hung itself above a patch of tanks. Four hellfire missiles made short work of them all. There was a series of explosions has other tanks exploded below.

"This is Lobo 1. All tanks follow me!" The 12th Battalion armor advanced."

"We'll be on standby to support." Sarah assured. I flinched as a shrill sound erupted through the headset, alerting me that a anti-aircraft missile was inbound.

"FUCK!" I jerked the helicopter sideways and it rolled violently. I was sure I could hear the frame moan in protest. The missile streaked past right by the cockpit. I pitched the helicopter forward at high speed. The warnings didn't cease.

"It's coming back around!" Sarah called. Son of an… I rolled the helicopter and the missile soared past at a high rate of speed. I watched in disbelief as it turned back around with ease. What missile was this- It was already back. As much I'd hate to admit any wrong doing, I wouldn't have been able to evade it no matter what; it had simply turned around to close. All I could do was prevent our early demise. I swung the helicopter to the side and pitched it forward so that the missile wouldn't hit the cockpit. It hit the tale and exploded. Almost immediately, the helicopter began losing altitude. I tried to prevent the helicopter from spinning wildly.

"Fuck, this thing ain't going to stay up long." I called through gritted teeth, pulled on the stick to the point where it seemed ready to break.

"We're hit, say again, we've been hit. We're pulling out." Sarah flinched as a shower of sparks erupted from a nearby panel.

X With James X

"Are we going out there?" One of the recruits asked.

"Of course we are. That's where the enemy if." Sgt. Anson stared intently at the plains, searching for some sign of movement. The trees had ended and the ground smoothed out into flat, rolling plains. Straight ahead, for as far as I could see, were endless plains, pocketed by a small patch of trees. The appearance of fences implied that this had been an area for raising cattle prior to the disaster.

"I don't see anything…" One of the recruits stared around.

"Oh, they're out there." Sgt. Anderson assured. "Stay low and follow." And with that he and Sgt. Anson set off across the plains. Some of the recruits followed. Other had to be nudged on their way. We advanced quickly, scanning the horizon for any sign of movements. Cutting off enemy retreats were another thing we were trained for, but this was far from an ideal zone like the trees had been.

"Eugh, what's that smell?" One of the recruits gagged in disgust. I tried to find the smell. As I said, soldiers are adaptive. We can learn to ignore certain scents with time. Indeed, there was a smell, a horrible one. It almost smelled like the horrid stench I'd experienced finding the decaying bodies of the poor souls we'd been to slow to help.

"Dead cows." Sgt. Anderson commented, glancing to his left. I followed his gaze and saw a ugly heap that was no doubt the corpse.

"What happened?" One of them asked.

"Simple." Peter explained as we climbed over a fence. "The meteors threw up ash. Ash blocked the sun. Without sun, the grass died. Without grass, they starved."

"What a shame." Sam commented. "I could really use a cheeseburger."

"It'll be years before man regains the ability to use electricity, and at least a decade before commercial food." Peter theorized. My stomach growled loudly, seemingly protesting the warning. I knew it was true though; man would still not return to normal for a long time, far past my lifespan.

"Shouldn't we be going right?" A recruit asked. I'd really have to try and learn all their names. Indeed, the main battle seemed to we to the west, but we weren't meant to join the main fight. Something pricked my ears. A large boom, but one that was somehow closer then the others. Sgt. Anderson paused. He pointed to the west.

"C'mon, move silently." He ordered. We soon found the source of the disturbance: three Anti-tank guns firing shells into the battlefield. "They're trying to bombard our own tanks, we need to take them out." Sgt. Anderson decided quickly. He motioned for everyone to move up till we were right behind the big guns. The crews were lightly armed, with only 1 member of each carrying a rifle.

"Fire." Sgt. Anson gave the order. After the clatter of machine guns, the anti-tank guns went quiet.

"Turn around and head back the way we came." Sgt. Anderson ordered. Everyone turned and headed back. "Command, be advised, we just knocked out some rebel AT guns firing from a distance. The guns themselves are intact."

"Copy, understood." The Lieutenant replied simply. We kept heading back till we at the same spot we'd diverged from our course. We glanced around for a way to go.

"Halt!" Sgt. Anderson called. Everyone froze and ducked. He pointed to the west. A long line of lights was coming this direction. Some of the recruits raised their guns before Sgt. Anderson ordered them to stand down. We waited. It was a line of Humvees, speeding along on a road that was just a few meters in front of us. They passed by at high speed, not even realizing we were there.

"Those were medical evacuations." Sgt. Anson said.

"Which means they're going back to the enemy headquarters…" Sgt. Anderson pondered this. "Command." He reported. "We're advancing toward the enemy HQ to disrupt the chain of command. The recruits looked terrified. I wondered momentarily if I should say anything. This all seemed just a little too much.

"Understood." The Lieutenant replied simply.

"Follow the vehicles." Sgt. Anson ordered.

"Don't worry to much." Sgt. Anderson assured them. "Enemy HQs may be well guarded, but there aren't that many guards all together. Maybe 150." There was 40 of us. Assuming the element of surprise allowed us to knock out take out two enemies before they were alerted, we'd still have to take on 70. Not very good odds. "Though these are raiders, I doubt they put any effort into defense. There might not be any at all" He went on. The recruits breathed a sigh of relief. They shouldn't relax. We'd still have a fight on our hands regardless.

X With Tim X

Wonderful. Things were really fucking wonderful.

"You alright?" I called. The helicopter hadn't held long enough, so here we were downed on the bank of the lake. At least we'd landed on the friendly side.

"Didn't they say that these raiders couldn't use AA?" Sarah asked.

"Figures nothing these bastards say is true." I growled in frustration and shoved the canopy open. We both gingerly climbed down. There had been a lot of sparks flying in the last few seconds, and my face stung like hell now. "Motherfucking ground troops and their goddman tanks, don't give a damn about us." I muttered. Allowing my self to drop down into ankle-high water.

"There is barely any coordination here." Sarah agreed. She growled in discontent. "I hate water." She muttered. We stepped onto the shore. By chance, I was sure this was the same area we'd stumbled in earlier.

"Guess we better start walking." I sighed. I was drenched, walking through pitch-black darkness after shooting at my own countrymen. Why the fuck did we always get the short end of the stick? _Maybe we should've kept going to the capital._

X With James X

"Enemy command post in sight. Minimum security." Sgt. Anderson reported. Indeed, the raiders did not believe in rear security; I couldn't see a guard anywhere. We all ducked back down as the Humvees passed back and headed towards the battlefield. It amazed me such savages had protocol for casualties.

"So we just go in and just shoot the place up?" A recruit asked. I was beginning to realize it was the same group of seven that usually spoke while the rest remained quiet.

"Avoid hitting communication equipment if possible. We may be able to use it." Sgt. Anson corrected him. We waited till the Humvees were further down the road and Sgt. Anderson gave to order to move up. We circled around the edge and observed the command post. It wasn't one in a practical sense, but it served the basics. There were a couple of tents set up, and we could hear the crackling of radios. Several voices also drifted out towards us. None of them realized that we were just yards away, waiting to strike.

"Can we get a report on the combat situation." Sgt. Anderson requested.

"Our forces are advancing, but enemy resistance is still high. Disrupt communications." She ordered bluntly.

"Roger." Anderson replied simply, rubbing his jaw in thought. He grabbed a grenade and, without a second thought, hurdled it into the center of the command post. It wasn't till after the grenade exploded that the post started to panic. In their stupidity, they actually ran outside to look around for anything, right where we could shoot them.

"Fire." Sgt. Anson gave the order. The roar of guns disrupted the otherwise quiet position. I noticed some of the recruits hadn't fired. They didn't seem to realize that being a radio controller would get you killed as well, whether by planes, ships, or a spec ops team kicking down the door. You would die; not all hazards were on the battlefield. I slipped another clip in and pulled back the bolt.

"Move slow, check your corners, and for the love of god don't shoot each other." Sgt. Anderson put emphasis on the last part. Some of these kids seemed like they would shoot at their own shadow. Or was I being too rough on them? I shook my head. No time for sympathy. I dashed into the post and swung my gun back and forth. There were no targets in sight. All of them were either dead or fleeing into the darkness where they would most likely die.

"There should be wounded here." Peter remembered. He glanced up when he realized some of the recruits were staring. "I'm a medic before a soldier." Peter told them. I nodded. He was my brother; he had chosen his own path for his own reasons. There was nothing to gain by questioning or trying to change it.

"Spread out!" Sgt. Anderson called. I ducked inside one of the tents. A large radio sat on a table in front of a deserted chair. Questioning voices were blaring through the speakers. I picked up the microphone.

"Sir, we're taking heavy fire and be pushed back. The enemy helo is down but we're still facing armor! Orders?" I gritted my teeth. The helicopter? They shot down the apache? I certainly hoped the pilots weren't hurt. "Orders?" The voice repeated.

"Pray your death is swift." I hissed. "Pray hard cause we will not give it to you." The line went dead immediately. Grinning, I hung the microphone back up. "Raiders know their command is out of the game, they should be running by now." I reported into the headset.

"We can confirm the enemy is beginning to withdraw." The Lieutenant added. That fast? Cowardly bastards.

"Good, keep looking for stowaways." Sgt. Anderson ordered. I exited the tent and paced around the post, nodded at the other recruits. I stopped in shock to see Peter staring at a horrible sight. The recruits quickly paced by, ignoring the hideous sight.

"A pile of dead bodies?" I asked. My mouth went try at the sight. There was at least 30, piled about 6 feet high.

"Look." Peter pointed at one of the bodies. There was a neat hole in the center of his head where blood was streaming down his upside down face. All the bodies had similar wounds. They had been executed.

"They don't even care for their wounded. I know it isn't surprising, but this-" I couldn't find words to express my thoughts. How could a human being be this savage?

"We've confirmed the raiders are in full retreat, armored forces are chasing stragglers. What's your situation report?" The Lieutenant asked. We sighed and went on our round, trying to forget the horrible monument to barbarianism.

"We're patrolling, tell the boys in the Abrams to watch where they shoot." Sgt. Anderson replied. "Find anyone?" He called. There were several negative responses. We continued to search the tents. All of them were deserted. I stepped back to the edge to glance at the heap of bodies. Maybe one of them was the rebel commander?

"Zombies!" Someone yelled. What the hell? I stomped into the camp, rumbling my temples. I felt almost like I was babysitting. Though I quickly realized this was not a joking matter.

"What…the…?" I stared dumbfounded at the sight. The pile of bodies was no longer a pile. Rather, the bodies were now strewn about.

"That is fucking creepy man, fucking creepy." Sam was taking a few steps back.

"Did anyone touch the pile?" I demanded. It was a pointless question, only said with the thin hope of finding an explanation that resembled logic. None of them would've touched the bodies, nor carry them that far off. Sgt. Anson appeared the survey the disturbance. He observed the original pile, and then every limp form tossed carelessly.

"Someone was hiding here." He stated. Hiding…in…bodies? I shivered slightly. I had stared right at the heap, had someone been staring _back?_

"Helicopter Company, can you confirm presence of the enemy commander?" The Lieutenant asked.

"Negative." Sgt. Anderson let out an agitated side. "We need he hid under some bodies and then fled." There was a moment of silence.

"Understood…we'll send the helicopter to extract you." If she was disappointed, she sure didn't show it. We all gathered at the edge of the camp, watching in the direction our own forces would be coming from. Somehow, this didn't feel like a victory, no matter how I shaped it. The raiders were back, with even more firepower somehow. Their leader had escaped, right under my own eyes…

But I reminded myself that conflicts weren't usually finished in one dramatic battle; they drew on. We'd seized their communications gear, meaning they would have difficultly rallying again. But still, how were they still operating? I looked up at the sound of rotor blades. Our helicopter was here.

X With Tim, 2 hours later X

Things were great. Life was great. Really. Fucking. Great. God I fucking hated everything and everyone. Most people say being a soldier is too hard. Well, it was easier for us considering where we'd come from. Gah. I rubbed my temples in irritation. How the hell was it, that with 90% percent of the world being dead, we weren't? I swear to god it was a conspiracy of the highest levels ensuring us further torment. I swore it. I shook my head. Everything was fucking up. Well, at least they had said they could repair the Apache. They better damn well fix it, or I was going to use them as a punching bag.

There was a ruffle as Sarah entered the tent. We'd both gone to the medic station first to have the burns on our face checked. According to them, I'd have a scar right under my lip for the rest of my life. I'd already added to my list of things that made me pissed.

"Guess what?" She took a seat at my feet. There was no specific change of tone, though there was a slight bounce to her step.

"What now?" I sat up. If she was telling me, it had to be worth my time.

"She's awake. Should be up and walking by now." So Kim was awake. Don't get me wrong; it was good news, but how about something good for _us _for a change?

"Really?" I played along.

"Yeah, once she calmed down, she was overjoyed. A bit confused though." Sarah added. "Then again, I can't blame her, she woke up with a thermometer being shoved up her ass." I stiffened a laugh. "She seemed to take the whole 'worlds destroyed' thing pretty well. I don't know how she'll adapt." Sarah admitted. "It was hard enough to get her to do anything when we were all camped out at that hanger."

"Even without the cocky 'I'm-better-then-you' attitude, she takes the comforts of the Air Force for granted." I reminded her.

"Yeah." Sarah frowned in though. "You know…" She stared "She's going to need a place to bunk till we reach that shelter." She looked up at me.

"Are you serious?" I groaned and rolled over onto my pillow. "Don't we have enough shit to deal with without her? Why can't she bunk with Stone?" I asked. Not the most sociable, but the old man was still willing to take care of anyone.

"Because he's thirty years older then her; it would be awkward." Sarah told me.

"What does age have to do with it? Your 11 years older then her and you two get along fine." I quickly picked at what I had just said and jerked my head up. Tomboy or not, women were always sensitive about their age. "Don't even!" I warned. "I am not in the mood for anything right now." I growled. Sarah sighed.

"Still stressed?" She asked.

"Aren't you? All of this is straight up bullshit. If you're going to say that you never once thought about why we survived, I wouldn't believe you." I growled and sat up. "Fuck, I hate everything right now." She rested her head on my shoulder.

"You said that same thing at the orphanage, remember?" He questioned. I briefly searched my memory. I still hated those years. Though now I could recall a similar speech when the state refused to emancipate us.

"…Yeah?"

"And I told you the same thing I'll say now: just hold on for a little longer. Things have always smoothed out for us in the end, haven't they?"

"…"

"Haven't they?" She put her hands on her hips.

"Bah." I muttered. She gave me a playful shrug.

"Look, patience was never your best quality, but just hang in there for me, OK?" She gave a smile.

"Alright fine…the kid can stay, just keep her out my hair." I did not look forward to the days ahead; they would certainly be WAY to awkward. "Where is she anyway?"

"Said she had to do something. In the meantime, I think I'll go swear at the repair crews." She got up. I laughed.

"You know, that's one of the reasons I like you: sweet one moment, pissy and rough the next."

X With James X

I sighed and flopped down outside the tent. Sam dramatically fell flat on his face and started fake snoring. I was about to pass out myself. If the lack of sleep wasn't the cause, it was the combination of training exercises and actual combat. The recruits were energetic, sporting around proudly just because they'd completed one mission. Sam tried to sit up.

"Ah, my back." He complained. "I just turned 21 and I feel like I'm 60." He grumbled.

"How the hell did you just turn 21? You've been going into the bars with us for at least a year?" I yawned.

"Same way you did: wear my uniform. No body questions the uniform." Sam stripped his helmet off and scratched his brown hair. My black hair was growing out too, I'd need to buzz cut it again soon.

"At least they use to." Peter pointed out. He took off his helmet and wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Those recruits act some of the dumbest questions I've ever heard."

"Yeah." Sam pointed his finger out. "Just because they complete one lousy mission, they start acting like they own the place, fuck them. We have-

"Umm…"

We all looked up when we realized we had an audience. It was the pilot we had rescued the other day from the Lazurians. A curious pair of blue eyes looked at us from beneath blond hair. She was a lot skinnier then I recalled; her pants hung loosely on her waist like they were about to fall down. I shook my self mentally and stood up, my face slightly red.

"You're the ones that saved me, right?" She asked.

"Yes." Peter answered.

"I just wanted to say thank you." She scratched the heel of her boots on the dust. "I really wouldn't want anyone getting hurt trying to help me." She looked up shyly.

"Your-" Peter slapped a hand over Sam's mouth.

"No thank you's are necessary." Peter quickly interjected.

"It's our job, we do it everyday." I nodded.

"Everyday?" She seemed surprised. "How?" She asked. I was dumbfounded as for an answer for that. It had always seemed normal to me.

"That's just how we're trained." I shrugged. She still seemed surprised, but nodded.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble." She added.

"It was no trouble at all." I insisted. She smiled and nodded.

"She's kinda cute." Sam commented as she walked away. "Nice ass too." I snorted and turned away. Well, she was attractive, but relationships were something you focused on in the civilian life. I had given that life up.

"Military rules ban relationships." Peter reminded him.

"Show me a rule book that still exists." Sam retorted.

"My foot."

"Ah!" Sam yelped and somehow managed to land spectacularly face-first in the dirt. Sgt. Anderson started laughing.

"Just thought I'd see how my most trusted men were doing after their first real operation." Sgt. Anderson looked at us.

"A lot less energetic then the recruits." I replied.

"Ah, they'll learn eventually." Sgt. Anderson glanced back to where they all were. "In the meantime, I'm trusting you all to help form them into good soldiers." He set back off. "Oh, and take my advice, the Air Force doesn't raise the brightest bunch." And with that he was gone.

"Since when does he give dating advice?" Sam stood up.

"Who knows?" I shrugged. Peter put his helmet back on.

"We should probably go make sure the recruits don't over-excite themselves." He suggested. While not a task I looked forward to, I regardless started walking. Two recruits emerged from behind a Humvee to cut us off.

"What was that about?" The younger one pointed to where the girl had walked off. I took a moment to get my answer together.

"That was about gratitude." I told them. "About the sense of security we give to others and how much they depend on us. That's why I get up every morning."

X 50 miles away, the following morning X

Confusion and frustration hung around the air of the raider camp. Some sat in frustration, others yelled at each other, a few unlucky ones silently held on to mortal wounds they had sustained. For a lack of better words, the raiders had got their asses kicked. There was nothing wrong with their equipment; the heavy armor tanks had actually allowed several crews to escape once the tanks were knocked out, they had simply been surprised by the sudden appearance of helicopters. Their plans had not included helicopters; in fact, they were lucky someone had thought to bring along a mobile AA missile truck. But even that had done little good for them. Rather then try and find a solution to the problem, they simply blamed each other. Any order within the rouge unit was gone.

The Beast, seemingly un-caring about the bickering, stomped towards the other end of the camp where a tall man stood.

"What's the big idea?" He spat at the man. "We lost because YOU didn't get us any good weapons!" His fist trembled. Had it been anyone else, the Beast would've punched them, but some unconscious fear that even The Beast would not acknowledge held him back. So rather, he just stood there huffing like a giant ape.

"I'd already offered you some, which you turned down. I take it you wish to revisit the offer?" Dr. Caulder scribbled something on his note pad. His calm voice only seemed to irritate The Beast.

"I want more weapons!" He shouted. "Enough to rip apart anything dog face has!"

"No need to worry, I already have carriers loaded with planes on this way." The man assured the crazy animal bellowing in front of him.

"Uh…we don't have any pilots." As if a statement to his stupidity, The Beast scratched his head. Caulder scribbled something else down.

"Don't worry, you don't need people for these weapons, they can be controlled by 1 man." He assured. The Beast's frustration vanished, replaced by savage joy at more thoughts of bloodshed. The man watched the large creature return to its men.

_So simple minded._ Dr. Caulder thought.

XX Author's Note XX

You know who the raiders remind me of? Grimm. All offense, no defense.

I think the reason I prefer writing Day of Ruin to the other Advance Wars titles is simply the depth and maturity. It's easier to visualize the horrible side of war, and see the soldiers you use as actual people rather then pawns.

There won't be much action in the next chapter or two, acquiring Bombers is a dull task.

If you have any suggestions or criticism, please leave it in your review.


	19. Chapter 18

I do not own the Advance Wars series. I am taking care, even with the M rating in place, to warn readers that there is a bit of adult content in this chapter. Not a lemon, but adult subject matter.

X Near the Rubinelle Coastline X

Since the Lazurian armed forces had rallied, both decimated militaries had been slugging it out mostly in the channel between their remaining ships and aircraft. The tide was slowly tipping in favor of the Rubinelle forces. Admiral Greyfield, the self-elected supreme commander and President of New Rubinelle, had been on a active recruiting campaign. He sent out expeditionary forces to bring remaining units back and under his command, sometimes personally tagging along to recruit officers for his campaign. Though barely a fraction of the countries pre-war strength, dozens of divisions and fleets of ships, planes, and ground troops were under his command now. He also ruled the areas secured with an iron force, requiring all civilians to work in support of the war effort. While questionable, his methods were extremely effective.

Troop morale was fairly high, thanks in part to Greyfield allowing certain entertainment venues to reopen. It had become common knowledge of what had happened, by few troops dwelled on it. Instead, they focused all their attention on combating Lazuria, who had heartlessly carried out attacks directly following the meteors. Or so they'd been told…

A squadron of A-1 Skyraiders cruised above the seas of the channel in a diamond formation. The waters of the channel had receded to as much as 10 miles, and were generally murky everywhere.

"Control to swan squadron, swan squadron, do you copy?" The radio squawked. The pilot of the leading plane picked up his radio.

"This is swan squadron, copy."

"Submarine _Sea Wolf_ has spotted enemy naval convoy 5 miles to the north. Change course and provide support."

"Copy. All planes follow me." The formation turned north and proceeded at a even height till the ships appeared on the horizon.

"This is reserve squadron no.364, Sea Wolf, do you copy?" The flight lead peered down into the sea, as if the submarine could actually be seen.

"This is Captain Farragut, we copy. Two cruisers amongst the enemy convoy are preventing us from taking action. Request you suppress them."

"Will do." The flight lead reply. "Alright people, lets prove reservists can fight just as good!" The enemy convoy in question appeared to them. It was a regular troop transfer: gunboats and landers filled with tanks and troops. Two cruisers and a destroyer provided protection. The planes rose sharply as AA fire from the three ships flew in their direction.

"Planes 2 and 4, take the rear cruiser. Plane 3, follow me in!" The planes increased altitude, and the streaks of AA fire followed close behind. At the last moment, the planes dived hard at the firing warships.

"Weapons away!" The flight lead snarled as he punched the release button. A series of unguided bombs landed on the Lazurian cruisers. The decks exploded in a violent eruption of flames. The AA fire ceased. The Skyraiders pulled up to avoid the fire from the remaining destroyer. "Sea Wolf, cruisers are taking water, eliminate the Destroyer!" The pilot swore at several metal pings on the side of his plane. The fire quit streaking past them and they turned back to see the destroyer tipping over as smoke billowed from it's side. The gunboats quickly took off and the landers began evasive maneuvers.

One of the cruisers was hit by a torpedo and exploded in a massive fireball. Galleons of oil spilled out into the already dirty ocean. It's rear sinking fast; the remaining cruiser was unable to defend itself against the invisible threat. Another torpedo and the cruiser went down.

"All planes, strafe the gunboats." The leader ordered. As the planes turned back for another run, the destroyer started firing again. Even in its death throws, it still fought. I final torpedo finished of the warship, the explosion ripping the ship clean in two. The two landers also went up in flames as 50, caliber bullets tore through the metal gunboats with relative ease. The A1s turned around again to survey the ocean. All the ships were now sinking. The pilots pumped their fists in victory. Below the surface, the crew of the Sea Wolf cheered. It was another victory for the NRA, and another loss for Lazuria.

X With James, in western Rubinelle X

"You call that fast? Bullshit!" A threatening boom of thunder reinforced Sgt. Anderson's words. I don't know how it was still possible, but it was storming, hard. Rain whipped my face with enough force to leave a bruise as I pushed against the wind. A flash of lightning lit up the nearby buildings and Sgt. Anderson's massive outline on top. To help train physical fitness and how to rappel, we'd set up a obstacle course in the town that the Battalion had desperately taken shelter in. But the storm was proving close to lethal. A couple of the scrawnier recruits had been sent flying by the wind, saved only by grabbing on to whatever hadn't flown off. The only things that were really secure were the tanks, which the crews had opted to spend the night in.

Blinking the rain from my eyes, I climbed over the car and kept pushing forward. My whole face felt numb. I grabbed on to the rope that hung against the side of the building and propelled myself up.

"You think this is bad?" I was amazed Sgt. Anderson could still be heard. "We fought in this weather all the time!" He laughed of all things. "So grow a pair and keep going! This isn't hard!" Hell, I was professionally trained and combat experienced and this was proving impossible. Sam was panting on top of the building when I finally hauled myself up. Two other recruits had given up and were curled up trying to shield their faces. Sam tried to say something, but I couldn't hear him over the weather.

"We're gonna die out here." I slumped next to him. He showed no signs of having heard me. I pointed down to the weakened soldiers. Yes, I was going to start calling them soldiers; they'd seen combat. They were soldiers now, no matter how green. We picked them up and carefully carried them down the fire escape, taking brief reprieve where the wind didn't blow the rain.

"Alright, I think we should stop before someone drowns." Sgt. Anderson called. I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. After finding the other recruits blundering through the water, we all dragged ourselves into a bookstore. We decided to start a fire with the books. I dragged my soggy uniform off and sat closer to the fire. I had really lost a lot of weight in the past few days. My mom would've definitely freaked if she saw us. I wondered if she was alive? I would have to journey to southern Rubinelle some day and find out…

"Oww…" One of the recruits moaned in agony and curled up in a ball. Others were so tired they just fell asleep in their soggy uniforms. Others bravely sat up and stripped off, not caring about their dignity. I watched the sight with some satisfaction. Maybe my doubts were misplaced; they were beginning to show the true traits of a soldier. Maybe we could bring the 18th back to its former glory.

X With Tim X

I was amazed we weren't dead. The whole building seemed like it was going to collapse. As soon as that freak storm hit, we'd just taken cover for the nearest place. I still didn't get how all these buildings could survive, but not the people. At least the power wasn't out. How they'd found a working fuse box also escaped me.

"This is really scary." Kim rubbed her arms. Sometimes, I really wanted to punch a politician in the mouth. I could understand they wanted a large military, but what's the point in it if its made up of people like this. Talent in fighting only got you so far…

"You don't have the half of it sweet cheeks!" A voice called across the room. Someone whistled and Kim's face flushed deeply. She covered her ass and took a seat. Here we were, hold up in a shaking insurance building with a bunch of regular grunts.

"Don't let them get to you." Sarah advised.

"They're rude." Kim whispered back. I swear to god, it was amazing she wasn't dead yet. Or even more amazing was the fact Waylon hadn't got to her. Then again, from the story Kim told, none of them had time to relax. "Aren't they supposed to be professional? The ones I talked to yesterday were-" I sighed and tuned out of the conversation. She only seemed to talk about three things: Eddie, how things were messed up, and how 'unprofessional' most of the other soldiers and civilians were. She almost reminded me of those optimistic bible thumpers that use to preach outside the air base from time to time.

"Just remember what I've taught you if any asshole try to make a move, just-" I tuned out the conversation and yawned. This was something that usually happened before and was continuing now. They'd always end up talking on some topic or the other.

"Psst, fly boy." Someone whispered. I looked up, a 'fuck you' already on the tip of my tongue. There was a soldier further down the wall, offering me a cigarette. I blinked, and then scooted over. "You smoke?" He asked.

"Yeah, thanks." I pulled out my lighter. I immediately felt my shoulders loosen. "Ran out a few days ago." I explained.

"You play poker? We roll em' ourselves and use them as currency." He put one in his mouth. "They really take the edge off the stress."

"Sure, invite me sometimes. I could really fucking use some."

"Women: can't live with them, can't live without them." He laughed. "Don't mind the comments, we're just messing around. A bit short of humor these days."

"They're the least of my worries, and just watch out for the brunette, she'll rip your nuts off if you go to far. I've witnessed it."

"They allow relationships in the chair force?" The soldier raised an eyebrow. Several of his companions also turned.

"Like anyone fucking cared." I shrugged. "No one does now, that's for sure."

"Good point." He shrugged.

"The older one is with you right?" Another one asked.

"Watch it." I growled. She's just barely 30."

"The years haven't been kind, have they? You look 40." One commented.

"Kiss my ass." I retorted. Stress made people look older. Stress was one of the things we'd experienced in our life. A lot of it.

"So…is the blond single?" The same soldier asked casually. I snorted.

"Don't waste your time man, she's as naïve as they come."

"Is that so?" He glanced over to where the girls were sitting. It was a look I'd seen plenty of times on the faces of guys wanting to 'get lucky'.

"Don't think about it." I warned.

"Heh, you her brother or something?" He asked.

"Yeah, right." I said sarcastically. "No, they're just pretty defensive of each other. You know how women are, they barely leave each others company."

"Yeah." He shrugged, seemingly decided against it. "What's your name dude, we'll invite you next game."

"Tim." I replied simply.

"Is that short for Timothy or something?" He asked. I growled. "Hey man, I'm just saying it doesn't fit your image. You look more like a Frank or something, someone who's been to prison."

"I've been to jail a couple of times." I shrugged. He laughed.

"For an Air Force lackey, your ok. I think your lady friends are waiting for you." He pointed the other way. I looked back to see them staring at me questioningly. Now they realized I was gone. I scooted back over.

"You two finally come back up from air?" I smirked. Sarah punched me in the shoulder.

"Very funny. What was that about?" She asked.

"Nothing much." I flicked a few ashes away. "Just talking about a few things. Lent me a cigarette."

"Good." Sarah smirked. "I swear you always get so grouchy if you go 3 days without any cigarettes or sex."

"Hey!" I objected. Kim started giggling madly. The glass doors of the building shattering from the sheer wind power followed a particularly loud clap of thunder.

"Motherfucker!" Someone cursed as water and piercing wind entered the small space. Everyone quickly retreated to the back halls of the building.

"How is it still raining when the world's destroyed?" Kim wondered.

"Simple babe." A soldier commented from across the hall. "When the meteors hit, thousands of galleons of water were evaporated into all those clouds in the sky now. Now it's coming all back down."

"By that logic, there will never be anymore storms after this." One said. "No sun, no evaporation." No weather. That actually sounded nice.

"I don't see how this building survived, but the people didn't." Kim glanced around. Kid had no thinking process. Hell, I'd nearly flunked High School and I could still determine some of what had happened just by common sense.

"The whole system collapsed." Sarah started. She'd taken the liberty of explaining everything the clueless blond asked about. She was usually the smarter half of me. I didn't have enough patience anyway. "Sure the buildings survived, but all kinds of supplies became impossible to move. Without it, they couldn't survive. The military is only semi-stable because they generally keep stocks of this stuff for emergencies. Not to mention basic survival training." Kim brought her knees up to her chest.

"It's all kinda scary." She admitted. Had to agree with her there; I still have a fucking idea what to do with my life now.

"Thank you for stating the obvious." I shrugged. "Everyone is probably worried about what will happen next."

"Even you guys?" She asked.

"Eh…" I never did admit any form of weakness, even if it were Sarah.

"More or less." Sarah answered for me.

"Well…they are gonna try and set up a new government aren't they?" She asked hopefully. "I want to settle down, married, have kids." She smiled off in the distance, probably caught in some dumb fantasy. "What about you guys?" She looked back up. "Don't you two ever want kids?" I tensed. _FUCK!_ Stupid fucking kid always said the stupidest shit. Sarah couldn't have kids, hadn't for as long as I'd known her. The last girl who had taunted her on the issue had got knocked out, and Sarah got an assault charge on her record that day. Not that Kim knew any of that, she watched curiously for an answer. I glanced wearily over to where Sarah was, half expected her to lash out and punch her. She kept her expression blank.

"I need to go to the bathroom." She got up and walked off, a slight rush in her step. I sighed and put my palm over my face. God Damnit.

"Is she ok?" Kim asked, a slight note of worry in her voice. "She seems to go to the bathroom a lot." Really? She just now noticed this fact? "Maybe she should see a doct-mmph." I clamped my hand over her mouth.

"Will you just shut up for a change? God." I let go. She rubbed her jaw. "Christ, be independent for once. She ain't going to be there to hold your hand forever." I sat back and rubbed my head.

"I'm just worried." Kim said quietly. "You two are like siblings to me, I wouldn't want either of you hurt."

"Leave me out of it. Still, give Sarah a bit of privacy, she has her own life you know."

"Why? You are like a brother to me!" She insisted. I snorted. "No, really! You scare away some of the more…touchy…guys."

"Only because they were usually messing with Sarah at the same time. "

"Hmm…" She leaned forward. "What is with you? Why don't you ever want to get close to other people?"

"…"

"_You shouldn't be sad. It never helps."_

I shook my head violently. No, I was NOT going to think about that. I stood up rather suddenly.

"I'll be right back." Kim started to rise. "Sit." I ordered. She paused, and then sat back down. Figures. "Stay." I walked off, shaking my head and trying to focus on other subjects. Sarah, I should probably go check up on her. I lingered outside to door marked 'women's' for a second. Eh, not like there were any other girls around. I pushed the door open, and immediately smelt smoke. I glanced into one of the stalls to see Sarah sitting there (pants up of course) smoking a cigarette.

"This is the women's room you know." She commented.

"You smoke?" I asked.

"I started before you did."

"Yeah, and you stopped." I remembered. "Something about not wanting to look like a whore when you were 20." She shrugged.

"I keep a pack with me, just in case. They're lights though. Why are you in here?" She asked.

"Came to check on you."

"What? Don't think I can take care of myself?" She sounded affronted.

"No, you left a bit quickly after what Kim said."

"What? Is that abnormal?" She was trying to avoid the subject, I could tell.

"The last time anyone mentioned the issue, you reacted a lot more violently." I jumped straight to the point. A moment of silence, then she sighed. She tossed the cigarette away and walked over to where the mirror was.

"I wouldn't hurt her. She isn't a bad kid, just a little misguided. It's…it's just a sensitive issue, you know? Tom boy or not, all women have maternal instinct. The knowledge that I'll never have kids…it's upsetting."

"So did you ever want kids?" I asked, failing to keep the uncomfortable tone out. Like I previously mentioned, I absolutely hated kids. She'd never mentioned to subject though. She looked up at me.

"Why are you asking? You hate kids."

"Well, it ain't always about what I want. There's what you want too." I scratched my head. She smiled.

"If anyone else asked you to do anything for them, you'd tell them to go fuck themselves."

"Yeah, but I love you." I glanced back wearily towards the door. I swear to god, if Kim heard me say any of this, I'd never live it down. Sarah was laughing.

"Nervous?" She inquired.

"Considering there's a ton of people around, yeah." Sarah smirked again and sat on the sink.

"You and your 'tough guy' image." She clearly found it amusing.

"The trick is not to show weakness, that way, people won't mess with me!" I declared. I blinked. "Wait, let's get back on the subject at hand." Sarah sighed again.

"…Kinda." She admitted. I bit my lip. Well, we were bound to disagree on some issues. It was normal. "I don't know why I bothered." She went on. "The first thing they told me in the emergency room is that I'd never have kids." Emergency room? My curiosity urged me to inquire, but I kept quiet. "Though I kept my hopes up for a small amount of time." Her face seemed red. "I'd sometimes get hopeful if my period was late. But nothing ever panned out." She rested her head on the sink counter and didn't say anything else. Damn. Well, I had my answers I'd always wondered about, though they did make me feel guilty. I was unsure what to say.

"We've both lost a lot in our lives." I offered. Resting a hand on her shoulder. "But like you've said. We've done decent." She didn't respond. I was starting to get worried.

"It ain't fair!" She shouted. She uncoiled and punched the mirror with surprising strength. Her face was red and streaked with tears. The mirror completely shattered and she got off the sink counter. "My life was ruined and I couldn't stop it. That bastard took everything from me!" She fumed.

"Who?" I demanded. She didn't answer. She just flopped down onto the floor, staring blankly ahead.

"It doesn't feel right. I always feel empty." She looked up on me. "Do you have any idea how I feel?" She asked. I sighed with absolute defeat. Completely forgetting the world around, I sat down next to her. If anyone wanted to make a snide comment of the situation, I'd snap their neck later.

"I've lost a lot in my life too." I admitted. "I can never get them back, I know that."

"So you run?" She asked.

"Yeah. I just never think about it, focus on the day in front of me. Pathetic isn't it?"

"It could be the only thing that keeps you sane." She leaned against me. "Every time I thought about the past, I just wanted to die. I was 7 years old, and I wanted to die. The only thing that really kept me going was what I hoped was ahead. And you." She added. "I really owe a lot to you, you know? You've done a lot more for me then you'd think."

"Ah, hell." My face was red.

"Well, I don't think there's any shame in it." She said. "We can't let our pasts dominate our futures, right?"

"Yeah." I agreed. There was a moment of silence where she snuggled up to my chest. I was a pillar of support to her, as she was to me.

"You want to talk about it?" She asked.

"I don't know." I admitted.

"I'm not sure myself. But I'll tell you one day, I promise." She looked up at me. I nodded. We sat for a little while longer, enjoying to solitude. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Need to pee?" I inquired. She gave a nervous laugh. "You know, we may be the most fucked up couple around, but I wouldn't change a damn thing."

X With James, the following morning. X

I yawned and sat up. I felt completely stiff, and cold. But I realized almost immediately that the roar and pounding of thunder was gone. The other members of the Company were pulling themselves up, trying to loosen their muscles. I pulled my gear on and walked over to the doors. Rainy nights were usually followed by sunny mornings. It was impossible, I knew, but maybe the outside looked different.

"Whoa." I commented as I sunk into ankle-high water. The whole town was flooded. The sky was the same tint of blotchy red, no surprise there.

"Hot damn, what happened last night?" An Abram gunner popped out of the hatch and stretched. Likewise, soldiers and civilians alike were poking their heads from their shelter.

"How deep is that?" A recruit behind me asked uneasily. He screamed as a rough hand shoved him in.

"Quit being such a pussy. It's just water." Sgt. Anderson strode out confidently waist deep into the water. "Battalions moving out soon, hut two men! Get ready." He ordered.

"He's an ass sometimes." One of the recruits grumbled in a squeaky voice.

"Don't let it fool you." Sam told him.

"He does care about the lives of teammates." Peter nodded.

"And he's unstoppable on the battlefield." I finished.

"He'll warm up eventually." Sam assured them. "Treated us the same when we first joined."

"He still treats you like that." Peter smirked.

"Kiss my ass." Sam retorted and jumped in.

X Near the coastline X

The raider's morale was back up again. While their ranks only consisted of roughly 400 men now, they were even more heavily equipped. More warships of surprising size and suspicious allegiance sat in the water, unloading a variety of mostly aircraft.

Dr. Caulder watched as The Beast stuck his head out from the gunner position of the War tank. Caulder no longer had no interest in this model; the trial several days prior had proved it flaw. While he worked on a better version, these savages could have the old ones. He was eager to see how they applied them in combat, as their methods would most likely be more diverse then his daughter's had bee.

"I'm coming for you dogface!" The maniac shook his fist.

"All the aircraft have been unloaded, sir." Dr. Caulder nodded wordlessly at the IDS soldier. The Beast jumped down from the tank and walked over to where the aircraft were.

"So…uh…how do I fly these?" The Beast seemed daunted by the sight. So simple minded.

"Right here." Caulder motioned to a large briefcase sitting on a table. He opened it, revealing a rather complex computer. "You can control each individual aircraft with this. They will do whatever you order. Another cruel grin.

"Dog face won't know what hit him." He stared at the stock of vehicles. Most of them were attack helicopters; special models Caulder used himself for security. Three of the craft were fighters, also advanced models. Caulder left the man to his berserk fantasies. He needed to get more note pads and find a place to watch the upcoming battle.

X With James X

We approached the gate with caution. Always expect trouble, no matter where. Owing to the pledge to give the Battalion a fully operational Air Wing, we had decided to stop at yet another Air Force base, home apparently to the 198th Bomber squadron. The idea was simple: the Marines would secure the hangers, weapons depot, and fuel pumps while we secured the barracks and main building.

"All right, remember:" Sgt. Anderson addressed the recruits. "Watch your fire, we can't go shooting survivors, or we'll have to put you down for friendly fire." He wasn't joking. "Alright…" He mused. "Corporals!" He barked at us. "Take half of the group-" He pointed to a section of the company. "And search the barracks. We'll secure the main building." He motioned to the other half. "Radio in if you meet anything."

"Guess we're suppose to take command now." Sam commented. The recruits looked at us, expecting orders. I felt a twinge of discomfort; I was trained as a follower, not a leader. I'd have to ask for strategy lessons later. We told them to follow and set off for the barracks.

"I've always wondered if the Air Force has better living quarters." I mused. It may have been another jab at rival branches, but some did turn out to be true.

"That's actually fairly likely." Peter said as a matter of factly. "Pilots have physically demanding jobs, so they need to be fit."

"I don't see why they get special treatment." Sam complained. "I thought the Navy was the first to the front in case of war?"

"Ships are limited by water?" I guessed.

"Still, turns most of the pilots into over-confident dicks." Sam went on. "C'mon, we've met a few at the bar before. Name one that wasn't stuck up." I couldn't really counter that.

"Let's just hope if we find any, they're as nice as the ones already with us." We cautiously approached the double doors and lined up.

"Allow me gentlemen." The former SWAT member stepped up.

"Alright, sure us what you can do." I offered.

"Name's Collins, Joseph Collins." He introduced himself. With expert style, he barged right in. "Clear!" He called. The 20 of us entered the small front area and glanced around. I quickly realized there were lights on and that there wasn't a trace of dust or similar signs anywhere. Someone had either just been here, or was still here.

"Raiders?" A recruit suggested, trembling slightly at the thought.

"Toughen up." Sam scoffed. The more time passed, the little he seemed to resemble the base clown we'd previously known.

"Sgt. Anderson, command, we've spotted some signs that the base may be inhabited." Peter reported in.

"Yeah, we're looking at a couple of signs too." Sgt. Anderson responded.

"The planes are out on the runway, like their ready to take off at any second." The Marine leader called.

"What planes?" The Lieutenant asked. We all listened for a response.

"2 bombers and 3 fighters." The Marine reported.

"All units, proceed with caution, but remember we're looking for survivors." It was the Captain this time.

"You bunch." Sam pointed to 7 random recruits. "C'mon, we'll check the girl's dorm." Peter snorted.

"Don't terrorize any survivor." He warned. Sam grinned and let the unsure looking recruits off. Peter turned to me.

"You can search the boy's dorm and I'll search the rest of the building?" He suggested.

"Good idea." I nodded. I selected 5 people, including Collins, and set off in the opposite direction from Sam. "Rubinelle Army Special Operations." I called. "Anyone here?" No voice echoed from the long hallways. "Alright…you two take that hallway, the rest of you follow me. Check each room." I ordered. We split up. Each room looked pretty similar to the ones we had at base, though there were quite a few personal items. I had to snap at a recruit who had become immersed in a pornographic magazine hidden under one of the beds. At least their soldiers were like ours. I entered a room further down and immediately noticed an indent on the bed. I felt it. _It's warm…_"Somebody is or was definitely here." I reported. "Bed's still warm."

"Be careful." Sgt. Anson warned.

"DON"T TOUCH THAT!" I jumped at Collins shouting. I barreled out into the hall to see he had tackled a recruit. "That doors rigged!" He warned, pointing to one. I kept my rifle aimed at it precisely. A very thin wire could be seen coming from the crack. It was rigged to kill anyone who entered.

"Repeat your last transmission!" Sgt. Anderson and the Lieutenant ordered. Before I could answer, there was a blood curling female screen over the radio.

"SHIT!" Sam's words were followed by a heavy thud, then a gunshot that was likely a pistol.

"Corporal Garcia, report in! Corporal!" Sgt. Anderson called. "Do you copy?"

"SAM!" I called after another gunshot.

XX Author's note XX

I dedicate this chapter to over 600 views! All thanks to my readers.

The human mind has very amazing coping capabilities, it can actually force a traumatic event to be completely forgotten if it deems it necessary. It can also form behavior in the strangest forms, usually depending on influence.

The fourth scene was so difficult to right; I rewrote it 5 times! It's a very significant plot development scene, but I just am not satisfied with it. Also, I feel the need to address the 'M' rating again. For future reference, there will be NO lemons in this story. I'm trying to convey a darker theme without ruining it with such appeal. Besides, if I were to ever write such a fic, it most certainly would be with series characters rather then my own. It ruins the image in my opinion.

And finally, the Submarine Sea Wolf and its captain mentioned in the opening scene are not of my creation; it was also a ship that was submitted and is thus owned by **SkyFighter**. I thank you for allowing me to use it. Please leave a review, whether good or bad. Bad reviews help me improve.


	20. Chapter 19

As much I would wish, I do not own the Advance Wars series. I do, however, own these characters. The submitted OCs are also property of their owners.

X With James X

I took off running back the way we'd come from, muttering under my breath the whole way. The recruits did their best to keep up. _God Damnit._ So many people were anarchists now, why?

"Maybe they're still alive?" I realized Collins was actually keeping up.

"I hope so." We raced down the hallways. We rounded a corner, and spotted a figure straight ahead, gun raised. We quickly jumped back behind the corner as small 9mm bullets punched into the wall. We leaned out simultaneously and opened fire. The figure disappeared down another hallway. Collins tapped me on the shoulder, the signal to move out. I carefully stalked down the hallway, hugging the wall and keeping my rifle at the corner in case the assailant returned. I reached the corner and peeked around. The hallway was empty. An antagonized moan came from the other direction.

"The others." Collins motioned that way. "I'll pursue, you help them." I nodded and patted him on the shoulder as he went on his way.

"Careful." I warned him. I moved towards the open doors, rifle high. The first few rooms were empty. As I went further a recruit leaned out from one, his rifle shaking violently in his hands. "The hell you doing?" I demanded angrily.

"They missed me, but the others are hurt bad!" His voice shook; reminding me of the novices I was working with.

"Calm down." I suggested. "Status?" I looked into the room. "Fuck." I muttered. Two of the other recruits were lying out on the floor.

"Both of them got hit in the neck." He explained. The neck, meaning either they were just knocked out by an expert move, or killed when it was snapped. I breathed in relief when I realized they were still breathing. Rookies probably forgot to check behind the door. 3 were safe, what of the other 5?

"Sam?" I went back in the hallway and searched the next room. A recruit was lying dazed on the ground. He groaned. "You okay boy?" I leaned next to him.

"Tazer." He muttered.

"You'll live." I had to find out who was most seriously injured. I left the grunt to pull himself up and went into the next room where the antagonized moan had come from. "Uh oh." I quickly ran over to the female recruit. A foot trap had been hidden under some clothes, and now her foot was caught and bloody. "It ain't serious." I lied. Damn, the muscles were going to be torn up.

"James?" I recognized Peter's voice.

"In here!" I called. There was an outbreak of confusion as the recruits gazed at their wounded friends. They'd have to tough it out. "Muscles are probably torn." I whispered as Peter knelt down.

"What?" She shouted in panic.

"Calm down and let us free your leg." Peter instructed. "Grab that, we'll have to pry it apart." He said. I grabbed one end of the trap.

"What about the others?" I asked.

"Most of them are just dazed and confused. But they'll need rest." Peter warned. Above the regular radio chatter, gunfire rang out.

"AMBUSH!" I recognized the Marine commanders voice. What the hell was going on? We got her leg freed. She turned around to look, and promptly fainted. Great…

"This unit is screwed." I complained. I knew I shouldn't be so rough, but every time things looked good, they proved otherwise.

"I got her, check the other rooms." Peter got up, shouldering the recruit. I nodded and went into the hall, gun trained to shoot.

"Put down your weapons!" I could the Marine leader screaming. I guess he forgot he was on an open channel. If they captured the bastards, maybe Sgt. Anderson could get his hands on them…I entered another room where the door was open. I immediately tensed up. _Both bunks were indented._

"Was their one or two enemies?" I called back.

"We only saw one." A recruit called. So where was the other one? I suddenly felt like I was being hunted. My eyes darted across the room, searching for hiding places. _The bed._ I kept a few paces away and silently kneeled down. My heart skipped a beat when my eyes locked onto a shape that was definitely not the carpet. It was a girl, judging by the hair, curled up and facing away from me.

"Alright." I called, keeping my rifle pointed straight at her. "I know your under there, come out." I let my guard down for a second when she suddenly started sobbing. "Umm…I ain't falling for it!" I toughened up. This could be a trap. She sobbed louder. I felt my resolve falter. What was I suppose to do now?

"Sir! We found-uh." One of the recruits faltered. I realized this must make me look like the bad guy.

"Peter, a little help please?" That was all I could think of at the second. He entered the room, pausing at the sound.

"What happened?" He asked.

"I don't know!" I was starting to panic. "She just started crying!" I was defending myself.

"Sam's okay, just unconscious. We should probably get her out of here. I'll get her legs." Still feeling slightly uneasy, I reached under the bed and grabbed her shoulders. She screamed and thrashed around.

"C'mon now, don't-What the fuck?" In my shock I dropped her back on the floor. "Sorry! Oh man." I didn't know why, and I didn't know how, but something had happened to her. Her face was bruised and covered in dry blood. Her uniform was torn and bloodstained as well. The whole sight was just…just.

"Fucking Christ." Even Peter, who was normally the calm and collected brother, as needed by his profession, was completely shocked. It only lasted a minute though as he quickly yanked his kit off and dug around.

"Wh-wh-aaa…" The recruit started retching.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." I muttered.

X With Tim X

Men will often do anything to please a woman, which is often not enough to succeed. I was one of the lucky few exempt from that rule. But that doesn't mean I don't have to do degrading tasks of occasion.

Like shopping, or looting, whatever they called it. Long story short: I was being dragged around as a lackey. I sighed and shook my head.

"Ah, what's wrong?" Sarah dropped back a little, a slight grin on her face. Kim was still looking around the barrack's main hall.

"I should be yelling at that damn useless crew who still haven't fixed our helicopter, not here." I was beginning to get pissed. Our bird still wasn't airborne.

"Please just stay a bit longer? Kim's nice and all, but her feminine personality gets annoying at times."

"Didn't the first time you mentioned her, 'some dumb blond' was in the description?" I asked.

"I had food poisoning that week, half the base did, remember? Hell, you did too!"

"Moving on." I waved. That week that been horrible, so I didn't want to remember.

"I was running to the bathroom every 10 minutes. She tried following me more then once." Sarah shrugged. "She's actually pretty aggressive at socializing."

"You were the only other girl on base. Who else was she going to talk to?"

"Good point. Overall, she is a decent girl, especially compared to the other bitches I met in training. I swear, the Air Force gets all the trust fund, rich family kids."

"Isn't the Air Force the most 'honorable' branch or some shit like that?" I asked.

"Usually." Sarah stopped talking. She frowned. Kim had also stopped.

"What's eating you two?" I asked.

"Do you sense something?" Sarah asked.

"I don't sense shit." I replied, pausing to listen.

"STOP!" This shout was followed closely by gunfire. Kim jumped behind both of us quickly.

"What the fuck?" Sarah drew her gun. I drew mine of well. There was another series of gunshots.

"I said freeze!" The voice yelled. Sounded like a cop almost, I'd heard the same type of yell behind me before.

"What's happening?" Kim asked. Sarah motioned for her to stand back. Cautiously, extremely cautiously, we approached one of the hallways that lead further into the barracks. Rather suddenly, someone emerged from said hallway, a girl. I would've been able to get a better description, had she not decided to kick me, in the crotch.

"Motherfucker." The curse came out in a high pitch then I would've wished as I sunk down to the floor. I could not see what happened, though judging by the sound of it, it wasn't pretty.

"Tim? Tim?" Sarah knelt down by me after a moment. "Are you okay?" She rolled me over.

"No I am not ok you stupid bitch! I just got kicked in the nuts! Ah." I rolled over on my stomach, still clutching the wounded area. "Fucking bitch!" I tried to stand, and my knees collapsed.

"Don't move." Sarah gently pushed me back down. I decided instead to look up. The girl, now unconscious (Sarah could be pretty damn scary if you tested her) was lying just a few feet away. A soldier came out of the hallway, armed to the teeth.

"What the hell?" He looked at the scene before him. "She got you?" He asked.

"Of course she did you fucking idiot!" I tried to get up to punch him, again being brought down by the pain.

"Your lucky, she shot one of our guys." He flipped her over with his foot and hogtied her with zip ties. Definitely a cop at once point.

"Shit." I muttered again. The pain ebbed slightly, but I wasn't going to try and get up again. A few more soldiers joined the scene.

"Dude, ouch." One of them squeaked. These were just fucking kids!

"Wouldn't have happened if you pricks could do your job!" I shot back. This was fucking humiliating.

"Coleman? Yeah, we found her. Did a number on one of the pilots though." The first soldier reported into his radio. Fuck this, I wasn't going look like a pussy. Slowly, and extremely painfully, I pulled myself up. Fighting the urge to cry in pain. Slowly, with every step laced with pain, I dragged myself over to the wall. Sarah followed close behind. The worried look on her face was something rarely shown in public.

"Funny." There was no humor in her voice. "Usually I'm the one needing support."

"I can move." I waved her off. "Fuck, that girl can kick though." The main door to the building opened up and a couple more soldiers poured in. They were kids as well, and scared. I could smell it. What the fuck type of recruiting policy was this?

"Alright, someone tell me what the fuck is going on." The largest man boomed. He was the same one from that 'Air Wing' meeting a few days ago. Dude was still intimidating as hell.

"Well Sergeant." The first soldier said. "We were investigating the dorms, and like we reported, there was someone here. They set up several booby-traps; pretty damn good ones at that. Poor kids didn't see them. Most of them got knocked out, another got shot once, but his armor saved him. Broad behind it all? Right here." He pointed to the beaten and tied up girl beneath him.

"You really fucked her up." I whispered.

"No one touches you except me." She smirked.

"I don't know whether to be flattered or terrified." I looked at the girl again. Now I could clearly see she had dirty blond hair, was thin, and that her uniform was one of a trainee. I could kill her with one punch if I swung hard enough, what the hell happened to these guys?

"This girl took out how many men?" The man sounded offended. The other grunts backed off.

"They're not that experienced, Sergeant." The soldier reminded him. The Sergeant stroked his chin thoughtfully. He shrugged, and then lifted his boot above the pilots face.

"Clear!" Another grunt bumbled out of the hallway. Everyone paused. Three more soldiers went running by, carrying between them what looked like a bloody mass of clothes. No…it was person…Holy fuck!

"What in gods name happened to her?" I had never seen somebody that messed up before. Never. The Sergeant looked from the sight to the pilot on the ground. He put his boot back down.

"Alright, someone carry her, we're going to go talk to the others they captured." He decided. Others? There were other pilots on this base? The procession went past.

"No help for the wounded?" I snorted.

"Didn't you say you could walk on your own?" Sarah reminded me. Oh right.

"A simple 'you okay?' would've been nice."

"You'd just cuss at them in response."

"Why don't we go follow them to these pilots they mentioned?" I limped towards the door.

"Where'd Kim go?" Sarah wondered out loud. I looked around. Indeed, we were short one annoying blond girl.

"Probably went back to the tent." I shrugged. "Girl hates witnessing violence up close. Bullshit if you ask me because she's killed at least once."

"I think Stone called it perception." Sarah said thoughtfully. "It feels different when you're in the sky." I shrugged.

"She's smart enough not to get hurt. Let's just get going." Walking was actually a lot more painful then it looked, but I wasn't slowing down for nothing. That same group of soldiers (kids actually) had wandered over to the hanger, where something was going on. The large crowd of troops and soldiers blocked the view, though we could see Stone standing near the edge of the group. "So old man, what the hell is going on now?" I asked. He turned and looked, glancing briefly at my hunched posture.

"There was some trainee pilots hold up in the base." He explained. "They were part of the Air Force program recruiting older teens. They mistook us for raiders, which have apparently attacked them a few times before."

"Some other Air Force survivors? About damn time." Sarah commented. "What unit are they with?" She asked.

"198th Bomber Squadron. Their escorts are here as well." Stone motioned over to the line of Humvees set up. About 15 kids, 2 female, were lying on the ground. Some had bags over their heads.

"Shoot, a gun battle with Marines? They're lucky they ain't dead." I scoffed.

"They were scared." Stone pointed out.

"Any of them dead?" Sarah asked.

"No." He replied. "We're going to try and recruit them once they calm down though. They'll be a useful addition to the Air Wing."

"Bombers?" I raised an eyebrow. That wasn't cool. Bombers would mean fewer kills for us.

"We have no way of transporting the B-52s; only just the F-15s."

"Good." Sarah commented. There was a moment of silence.

"Decided on if you'll stay?" Stone brought up the issue.

"Not yet." We both replied simultaneously. He didn't answer, but simply paced forward towards the recruits.

"Snotty little bastards." A Marine came up to us. He didn't look more then 20 himself. "The one of the far left hasn't shut up." I looked at the line. At the far end was some kid, probably like 17, tied up with a bag over his head. Regardless, his head was twisting and the nearby Marines were looking at him with disgust.

"Sounds like a real brat." I commented.

"He's his Bomber's radio op. I pray for the poor bastards who had to work with him." The Marine went off to his duties.

"'We forgive you for shooting us, why don't you join us in helping others?'" Sarah laughed at my mocking voice. "Seriously, what the hell? I'd have them shot."

"Ah, give them a break. They didn't know any better." She frowned as the brat lashed out at a nearby guard, apparently spitting something insulting at the nearest Marine. "Except that one."

"And the broad that kicked me." I felt a throbbing pain. "Damn this hurts. They can deal with the recruiting, I'm going to go back to the tent."

"Want we to bring you some ice?" She asked.

"No thanks. Go yell at those dicks working on our helicopter though." I suggested. It hurt like hell, but I managed to leave the base with my head high and without a limp. It was only once I entered the tent that I finally breathed out. Jeez, did that girl has steel-toed boots or something. Damn. Then I realized I had a guest…sort of.

The first indication of abnormally was the fact that Kim didn't say anything. The second was that I realized she didn't look up. I slowly walked over to my cot and sat down. She still didn't look up. Okay, this was beginning to get weird. Funny shit there: you find someone annoying, but you get edgy when things change. Something was probably wrong.

Wait? Why should I bother? It wasn't any of my damn business; I should enjoy the peace and quiet!

…

… Curiosity killed the cat didn't it? I really needed to learn some control.

"Are you okay?" I asked at last, slightly leaning towards the tent flap. More likely then not, she'd start gushing about some idiotic 'girl' thing, and I'd have to go get Sarah.

"Huh?" She looked up, her cheeks flushing like she just realized I was here. "Nothing." She said quickly.

"Nothing?" I let the word hang in the air.

"Nothing." She repeated quickly. Normally she never shut the hell up. Now she decided to keep quiet? She gave a cheery grin to back it up. I wasn't buying it.

"Hmph." I lay down on the cot and closed my eyes. I waited a brief moment, and then opened them again. She had since rested against the side of the tent with her eyes closed. What got me though, was the look on her face. I knew that look; I'd seen it many times. So something was wrong.

"So…what happened to that pilot?" Kim said uncertainly.

"She got knocked out and arrested. They're going to try and recruit her. Why do you care?" I asked.

"Nothing." She repeated quickly and turned her head. I thought I saw her grimace. I shook my head. Sharing a tent, wonderful idea on Sarah's part. I sighed and got up. Finding Sarah wasn't very difficult, since you could hear her swearing a mile away. I could see why: There were at least 13 metal panels stripped off while they worked on the tail. Surely it couldn't be this hard to fix a helicopter?

"I thought you were resting?" She asked.

"Let's swap places, I think you should go talk to Kim." I pointed back towards the tent.

"Why? She asked.

"Kid looked down." I summed it all up. Sarah, unexpectedly, started giggling.

"Aww, you care about her!" She laughed. I felt my face go read.

"Yeah right, I just don't want to share a tent with a moping teenager. You can feel it in the air for pete's sake. She looked really upset."

"Ah, don't worry too much." Sarah assured. "I doubt it's nothing serious. You said she looked uncomfortable? She's been constipated for the past day, she was complaining about it to me last night."

"Trust me." I said flatly. "That ain't the problem."

"How do you know?" Sarah sounded slightly worried now.

"The look on her face." I said. "It was the same one you usually had when someone asked you about your life before the orphanage." Sarah's expression automatically changed to the same one Kim had had. "That." I said. "The women's 'horrible memory face', that's what was with her."

"Strange." Sarah mused. "Kim always seems so cheery. I guess I'll go talk to her." She set off towards the tent. "Watch these idiots though. I've seen them drop at least three different things." She walked off. OK, that problem was solved, now for the one at hand.

"Hey dumbasses!" I yelled at the crew. "Get you head outta yer assess and fix that damn helicopter already!"

X With James X

"That hurt like hell." Sam rubbed his bruised forehead. He had been the unfortunate target of a foot snare made of fishing string. It wasn't that seriously though, so he was just waiting outside the medic tent. We were just waiting for Sgt. Anderson to come back after checking out the injured recruits. He was absolutely furious once we left the base. I would not dare repeat his words, for they would be enough to shock a sailor. The short story: we were all in it for holy hell.

"At least you didn't get yelled at." I pointed out.

"Yeah, he really bitched out most the recruits didn't he?" Sam stared out to where said recruits, looking scared, were waiting by the helicopters. "He's expecting to much of them; they just started!"

"I don't think that's going to save them. And I'm sure we're going to get chewed out as well."

"He sounds worried for the wounded." Peter appeared behind us, his sleeves stained with blood. Mine were also stained. "He's worried about all of us, always has been."

"How's that girl?" I asked. I swear, a shiver went up my spine every time I thought of that bloody and limp body. I brought out my canteen.

"Horrible." Peter said flatly. "I asked another one that came in, raiders have tried to attack them before. She didn't escape last time. She got raped, at least 10 times from what I could see." I spit the water out in shock.

"What the fuck?" Sam looked back towards the tent then the base. "What?" He repeated. "They- 10 times?"

"At least." Peter shook his head. "I can't believe the poor thing is still alive." I felt a new wave of anger boiling inside of me. What…animals could do something like that? She wasn't even 18 yet!"

"I'm going to slit their fucking throats." I snarled.

"You'll get that chance soon Corporal." Sgt. Anderson appeared and we straightened up.

"Sir." We all said.

"Alright boys, listen up and listen good." Sgt. Anderson looked towards the recruits. "The raiders aren't that far from here, and we're fairly certain they're the same group. Tomorrow, they're going to launch all the aircraft to take them out. The river can't be crossed, at least not here."

"But we need forces on the ground; there is actionable intel that the raiders have acquired AA." Sgt. Anson came up with a map and laid it out. "The terrain has many hiding places."

"We'll be going in first." Sgt. Anderson pointed to the edge of the river. "From there, we'll split into two groups and move in opposite directions for S&R missions. The aircraft will follow shortly."

"Wait a minute." Sam cut in. "Just us? We got our asses beat by a teenage girl. How the hell are we going to-"

"We have a better chance of seeing our enemy." Sgt. Anson pointed out. "We won't be alone either."

"The helicopters will return and start landing some of the Marines along the coast to help. The armor and their supporting infantry will try and find a way across, but I wouldn't count on it."

"We'll be in enemy territory with air support only." I realized how that sounded.

"Just like you were trained." Sgt. Anderson nodded. "And just how we need to train these guys." He turned towards the recruits. "Don't worry that much men, they can work in the field, better then some of the raiders even. But we better warm them up first." We nodded.

"Right, I'll review physical training." I volunteered. Sam and Peter agreed to help.

"I'll access their shooting ability." Sgt. Anson grabbed his rifle.

"And I'll try and teach at least a few of them anti-armored warfare. We'll need it." Sgt. Anderson looked around. "Where's that damn supply officer?" He wondered.

"We have 12 hours before the operation begins. So lets hurry." Sgt. Anson sent us to our respective tasks. Tomorrow, those bastards were going to pay.

X With Tim X

"You sure." I narrowed my eyes.

"Yes sir." The crewman nodded. "The helicopter is fit and ready." I approached the helicopter, scanning it critically for any missing bolts. Nothing seemed to be missing.

"If this falls down, my foot is going up your ass." I warned.

"It won't be needed." He sounded confident.

"Better not be." Sarah walked up. The crewman shrugged and walked off.

"It works!" He called over his shoulder.

"Kim told me the most interesting thing." Sarah whispered.

"This won't scar me will it?" I asked.

"No, actually, you'll recognize it. That pilot that kicked you? Kim knows her."

"Wonderful I muttered.

"They went to the same private school." Sarah nodded. "She bullied Kim mercilessly. Some of the pranks she pulled, makes some of the kids at the orphanage look tamed."

"Seriously?" I asked. That was hard to believe. The little pricks at the orphanage pulled some of the most embarrassing shit, it could make anyone cry.

"Yeah, Kim changed schools just to avoid her. Poor girl is terrified of her. Get it?" She looked at me. I knew what she was referring to. Bullying was a everyday occurrence at the orphanage, and it always ended in one of two ways: the victim became extremely passive and weak (like Kim), or the person toughens up and beats the shit out of their tormentor (like Sarah and me had).

"Well, that explains her acting." I commented.

"No wonder she's so passive." Sarah shook her head. "Poor thing." She glanced towards back. "Hmm."

"What are you thinking?" I asked cautiously. Sarah was not someone to mess with. She was just as protective of people close to her, which at the time only numbered two. But man oh man I could smell trouble.

"What?" She asked innocently. "What makes you think I'm going to do anything?" I stared at her accusingly. "I'm just going to try and toughen her up a little. Well, more then I've been trying."

"Didn't you once say you shouldn't change someone?"

"I'm the same girl I was years ago, aren't I?"

"Depends on the situation."

"Look." She said. "Kim's a nice girl, she's helped me out a bit, I think I should return the favor." They'd barely known each other a year. Women…

"If you want to follow her around and change her diaper for her, I don't care. Just leave me out of it." I put my hands up. "I ain't helping out in this one bit."

"You're being unfair." Sarah crossed her arms. "She can be mature if get to know her." She smirked. "You know that she isn't afraid of you, right?"

"Oh really?" I asked.

"Not anymore anyway. First time she saw you, she looked terrified. She also asked if you were hitting me."

"She _what?" _I jerked my head up.

"Yeah, at least till I told her you just act like that." She smiled. "I told her about when I broke my arm, you dined on me hand and foot and helped me with anything I needed. She thought it was romantic."

"Wow. I feel so outnumbered." I said flatly.

"Oh, don't even act mad. You care about her too. You help people all the time. You just don't like to admit it." I didn't say anything. She wrapped her hands around my shoulder. "I think you should really think about loosening up a little."

"I'm loosen up when the world stops being an unwelcoming ass." She laughed.

"Worlds pretty much gone; there isn't anyone else to make a statement to."

"Maybe you have a point." I shrugged. "But I ain't letting my guard down, not yet anyway."

"We can discuss philosophy and the meaning of life later, but I'm here because Stone is calling a meeting."

"Is he?" What would he want?

"Yeah, we've got new orders." She told me. "Combat orders. He's holding a briefing."

"Well hell then, let's get going. I hate sitting on my ass all day." About time we got some more action.

XX Author's note XX

700 views? We'll have 1500 by a Hero's Farewell. I'd hoped to start on the combat in this chapter, but it dragged out a bit far. Next chapter then I guess.

I'm still surprised at the lack of OCs. Timeline is closing fast. In a few chapters I'll stop accepting any for the 12th Battalion, though I still will accept NRA or Lazurian OCs. Even if they haven't a role in this story, I can fit them into the trilogy somewhere.

Did I say trilogy? Yes I did. I always planned it, but the idea didn't fully form till I started this rewrite. There will be two other stories, all of them set in the same universe. I will include some references, though people won't notice them till later. Basically, these stories will follow a similar formula to this. My next one will shift between a NRA Carrier pilot and a NRA Paratrooper, and the other story will focus on a Lazurian Sturmovik (duster) pilot, and a tank driver. I think I'll keep those stories 'T' rated, as I believe the M rating is the source of my lack of reviews. I'm trying to use sadness, hardship, and a lot of other negative themes in this story to better follow the game, but I think those stories will be a bit more friendly. I don't do more then one story at once, so it could be another year before I even start the other. But I will get there.

Leave a review, a suggestion, or a OC if you have them.


	21. The Beast I

I do not own the Advance Wars series, just most of the characters in this story.

X With Tim X

When we arrived at the command tent, the meeting hadn't started yet. Though we were in time to see the recruiting. There were 17 of them in all. I was pretty sure one bomber took 7 people, so that meant about 3 were fighter pilots. They were all snotty rich kids, I could just tell by their looks. That, and the fact only some private schools let kids graduate as early as 16. What a lovely addition to the equation. Bleh.

"I doubt they've even mastered the take off and landing course." I snorted. When Sarah didn't answer, I looked over to see her staring at something. I followed her eyes and saw she was staring at one crewwoman in particular.

"Damn." I shifted uncomfortably. It was the same girl we'd seen carried off earlier. She looked bloody, bruised, and her face was indented to the point it was hard to recognize her. "What happened to her?"

"Raiders." Kim whispered, appearing beside us. "They caught her and…" I could hear her shutter. I grimaced. I mean, holy fuck, how could someone get that fucked up? I reassessed my last thought. Bad choice of words.

"Those bastards are in for a shit storm when we start the operation." I commented. Those kids may have been two scared to counter attack on their own, though they'd probably agree now that they had friends on the ground. I checked out the other young pilots. Most of them looked scared and uneasy, not surprising. What says 'nice to meet you' better then a fight with pissed off Marines? A few were trying to act proper like actually airmen. And a few tried to look pissed or offended. The two notable examples was that brat the Marine had mentioned, sporting a broken nose, and that girl that had kicked me earlier. She had bandages around her bruised face. Her eyes flickered over towards Sarah briefly and she scowled. They flickered to Kim again, and the scowl turned into a cruel grin. Kim discretely moved behind me. _What the fuck? This is the military, not high school! _I shook my head. A feud between women was a destructive force, rivaled only by a hurricane.

"We can promise you food, medicine, and shelter." Captain Brenner was saying.

"We will not force you to stay though." The Lieutenant said. "And if you decline we will not come back for you." This visibly upset them. Rather quickly, they huddled together and started whispering.

"What the hell is there to think about?" I asked out loud. No one answered me. I looked at the two girls beside me. Kim was still hiding behind me. I looked at Sarah. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be staring at the ground. "You okay?" I put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and blinked.

"Yeah, I'm okay." She paused for a second. "I want to do a test flight on the AH-64. We need to make sure it can fly."

"These people got tight belts, I'm not sure…" I stopped when I noticed her eyes were closed again. One of the conditions about loving someone was usually that you put what they wanted above your own and others ideas. "Ok, we'll do the full deal. I'll 'persuade' them." I tapped my fists together to make a point. Rather then smile or thank me, she returned to looking at the ground. I frowned.

"Alright, we guess we'll accept your pleas." I looked back to see the brat addressing the Captain. His voice seemed to be going for a smug and commanding tone, though it ended up sounding stupid cause his voice cracked. I think a fist would've corrected him pretty quickly. "But I'm leading." I snorted at the kid trying to act tough. Tough news sunny: Stone was the boss.

"We already have a Air Wing commander." The Lieutenant informed him. Stone stepped forward from where he'd been standing near the shadows. The line, save the three aforementioned scowlers, straightened up into a salute. To the trained military eye, Stone's uniform showed many things about him that deserved respect: He was the same rank as Brenner, he was a Great War vet, he was an ace, he'd received numerous medals, and he'd been shot down THREE times.

"You're a veteran? What's you kill count?" One of the kids asked excitedly. At least some of them had common sense…

"68 Fighters, 29 Bombers, and an Aircraft Carrier." He replied. This drew gasps of awe and started clapping. That was pretty damn impressive. I didn't even know he flew anti-ship missions.

"But…you're too old to fly." The same broad that kicked like a mule made the comment. He others went dead silent. Even the Captain, who usually had his head down, perked an ear up. I wonder how the hell he dealt with all the young and inexperienced soldiers. I opened my mouth to speak. A variety of factors brought my response: The blatant ignorance, the disrespectful tone (I might have been a bit hypocritical there), and simply for the fact I respected the old man.

"Bitch, I suggest you watch your mouth." I stepped forward. "You are looking at who might be the best pilot remaining in this shit hole world. Your still wet, so you should be damn well thankful that you get to have him as a mentor." Behind me I was pretty sure Kim was beaming. She glared at me with absolute distaste.

"Ahem." The Lieutenant cleared her throat. "Are you all staying, or not?" I watched the ground. Two of the fighter pilots stepped to the side, signally their acceptance. The girl rolled her eyes and joined her fellow fighter pilots. The remaining group was the bomber crews. Reluctantly, 7 of them gravitated off into a group. Okay, so we had three fighter planes and a bomber for the operation. Six of the remaining kids also walked over, although reluctantly. The last one remaining was that brat. He looked absolutely pissed.

"Wouldn't lose any sleep if they tossed him to the wolves." I muttered. Kim made a 'shh' sound. Still scowling, he walked over to the rest of them.

"We are glad you'll join us." The Captain nodded in approval. "We should review the plan before we turn in for the night though." He motioned to the command tent. The plan was a classical CAS (close air support) mission. Helicopters would land foot troops across the river. They would then move through the terrain and eliminate any AA they found. Then the Air Wing would move in. Sarah and me would be responsible for supporting the 4 groups of infantry that would be advancing. The bombers would they attack major concentrations of raider units. The fighters, they would have a minor offensive role. The kid's planes were F-4s, an older and mostly obsolete model. But they, as well as Stone's F-15, could be loaded with light anti-ground ordinance.

"We do not have any actionable intel on the raider's equipment." The Lieutenant warned. "It will be up to the ground forces to provide that information." Going in with out any information? Exciting!

"It doesn't matter what they have, we'll slaughter all of them." Sarah spoke up.

"We haven't shared this news with the rest of the troops, but the shelter is a day away once we're over the river. It is vital that we remove the raiders." The Captain spoke, emphasizing how important we were. Though with me, the statement struck a chord. Tomorrow? Shit, I would've wanted more time; I still wasn't sure if we were going to stay.

"You have my word that we'll do our part." Stone assured them. His word was worth a hell of a lot, if he said we'd get them, then that meant fried bastard was going to be served tomorrow.

"We commence the operation is 14 hours. You all should rest." The Lieutenant advised. Stone nodded.

"All you follow me and we'll help you settle in." He herded the kids out the tent. We stayed behind; there was a matter to discuss.

"Yes?" The Captain realized we hadn't moved.

"We want to take the Apache for a fly, we-

"Fuel is too scarce to waste." The Lieutenant cut her off.

"Alright, look." I stepped up. "The whole damn tail nearly broke off from that last battle. All I have is the crew's word that it's fixed. I don't want to go out there in the morning and have the thing blow up on the runway."

"It's a necessary precaution Lin. No one needs to die in a preventable accident." Captain Brenner nodded at us. "You have permission."

"10 Minutes." The Lieutenant warned. "And not a second more."

_She's such a hard-ass._

"Thank you." Sarah nodded. She turned and walked out of the tent.

"Aye, thanks for the break." I raised my hand in a sloppy salute and followed. "You seem upset." I caught up with her. Most the camp was already turning in, so no one would hear.

"I just don't want to miss this battle." She told me.

"We won't." I tried to put her mind at ease. "Tomorrow, we'll get off the ground early. There won't be any of those bastards left for the others."

X With James, the following morning X

An unfamiliar feeling hung in my gut as I woke up. It took me a moment to pin it down as anxiety. It wasn't the first time I'd waken up knowing I'd go into to battle, but this was the first time I knew our enemy was completely waiting with guns aimed. We would be the first in, and we could easily all die before even getting on the ground. It was a thought that made staying in my warm cot more appealing. But I had to get up. If I didn't fight, who would pay for it? The civilians; the innocent.

I pushed myself up and yawned. Sam was the only other one still sleeping. The others must've gone out to prepare. I swung my feet off the got and stretched. I had get ready myself.

The camp was still mostly quiet. Most of them wouldn't have been up yet. I wandered out of the camp to the base (they'd moved all aircraft to the runways). As I'd predicted, Sgt. Anderson and Anson were already there, discussing something with the Air Wing commander.

"Hell, I've seen those Lazurian bombers, they take a ton of lead to bring down." Sgt. Anderson was saying.

"The standard tactic is to destroy the engines." The pilot replied.

"Can't destroy it, disable it." Sgt. Anderson nodded. He tapped his arm for a few seconds before speaking again. "What type of ordinance you got of those planes? F-4s were relatively new during the war, and they couldn't do shit against some of the heavier tanks."

"The bombs are standard AGMs. They should be able to disable any Abrams or M2s." The pilot looked at his craft. "The Apache was far better ground weaponry, you'll have to talk to them."

"Right…right…Thank you for your time Captain." They saluted each other. The Air Wing captain left. "Come over here, Coleman." He didn't turn his head, though he must've sensed me.

"Sir." I straightened up.

"You think you could carry two AT-4s into battle?" The question seemed random, though I quickly realized the five of us were the only ones with adequate anti-armor training.

"Yes sir." I nodded. "But it might slow me down a little."

"We'll be moving slow anyway." He reminded me. He turned and stared out in the direction of the river. "Stay on your toes Coleman, these raiders are not to be underestimated." He walked off, leaving me baffled. Trying to focus myself on other things, I noticed a large group of recruits standing near one of the Chinooks. Peter and Sam were amongst them.

"What's going on?" I walked up to the scene.

"Recruits are arguing over a call sign for the bird." Sam motioned to them. "A bunch of idiotic suggestions if you ask me." He rubbed his head. The military had a certain way to handing out callsigns. The army, and to some extent the navy, usually gave out names in the form of animals, though other types of names existed. The air force meanwhile, primarily named their groups after flying creatures.

"We have a idea!" A recruit bounded up. "Phoenix 12-1." He said excitedly. "This is the 12th Battalion, and that's the first helicopter. Plus, this units been reborn, like a phoenix!" He beamed. While that wasn't anywhere close to proper military labeling, I had to admit it was pretty clever for a bunch of civilians.

"Tell you what." Sam raised a finger. "If we survive this operation with our skin in tact, we'll talk with the big man." The recruit nodded excitedly and went back to his friends.

"You're skin will be hung like a flag by the end of this." Peter snorted.

"You'll have your throat slit." He retorted. Their bickering began to put doubts in my mind.

X With Tim X

The army bragged about how their tents were the ultimate shelter for a common grunt. I personally believed it was bullshit; it was still cold in the morning, even if I slept with my flight suit on. Though at least I woke up to one of the greatest sights know the man.

"Hehe." I grinned. "Teasing me while I sleep?" Sarah looked back from where she was rummaging in his bag.

"You wish." She pulled out a pair of underwear and slipped them on. I yawned and got up. Kim was still sleeping peacefully on the ground. "Today's going to be big." She started pulling on her pants.

"At the end of the day, we'll have the most kills." I boasted.

"Hmm." She pulled her shirt over her head. "Wake up." She prodded Kim in the stomach with her foot. The teen shifted, but did not stir.

"Wakey, wakey." I called loudly. She blinked one red eye open.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Sarah sounded a bit concerned.

"I just kept having bad dreams." She rolled over and ducked her head back under.

"We'll let you sleep for a little while." Sarah told her. Kim muttered thanks and ducked back under the covers. "Come on." She whispered to me.

"What the hell was that?" I stretched. This place was mostly silent.

"She's been terrified since that girl showed up." Sarah told me. "She was the victim of some pretty nasty pranks, even stuff that didn't happen to me." I had to stretch my ears to hear the last part. I scratched the back of my head. With her…problem… Sarah had been a prime target at the orphanage. Some of the pranks had made her break down completely. The first assault charge on my juvenile record was on someone who had pulled such a prank.

"'The Rubinelle military is the most disciplined and professional military on the planet'" I mimicked the speech the President had given to the people during a particularly volatile period a few years ago. "Professional? It's like a high school here!"

"They do try and recruit people that are young." Sarah pointed out. "Physical and mental maturity are too different things." I nodded in agreement.

"Well…" I rubbed my hands together. "I'm going to go see how far along things are prepared."

"You do that, but I need to pee." Sarah walked around to the other side of the tent. I shook my head and set off towards the base. All the kid's aircraft plus the bombers were sitting on the runway, ready to take off. They'd got a F-4 for Kim to use as well. Stone's plane sat at the head of the line. We'd need to move fast to get most the kills from him.

"Hey boy!" I could tell the comment was aimed at me. I scowled and spun around.

"…Yeah, what?" I spat. I hadn't expected turning around to face a man's chest. I stepped back a step. It was that big commando guy with the helicopters.

"So flyboy, how heavily armed is that bird?" I gritted my teeth. If he thought size mattered, he clearly hadn't seen my record.

"Shit, I could sink a battleship." I puffed my chest out. It was the truth; we'd actually seen cockpit footage of a pack of helicopters sinking a battleship. Though I'd never attempt it myself, battleships had a shit-ton of AA now even though their time as flagships had passed.

"How about a War Tank?" He asked. War tank? I gawked at him.

"You mean an Abram?" That was the heaviest Rubinelle tank I knew of.

"Nah, a War Tank, we came across one a few days ago." What the fuck was he going on about?

"Look dude, I don't know anything about a 'War Tank'. I know how to knock out a Abram and a IS-3 though. He frowned.

"When you see one, aim for the front. You have to knock out the five cannons." He walked off. I stared after his in confusion. What the hell did I just hear? While I'd prefer to relax a bit, I had to check out what the fuck he meant. The key to being a successful combat pilot was knowing all threats. I spotted a group of Marines standing near one of the Chinooks.

"Hey! Leathernecks!" I called. They got all defensive.

"What? You think you're better then us flyboy?" One of them met me in the middle.

"Hey asswad, I could floor you in a moment's notice." I didn't flinch. I'd fought enough fights. "Just answer my fucking question: what's all this rambling about a 'war tank' or whatever?" They all recoiled at the mention. Ok, so this was something to actually worry about.

"Wait, you think you can take one out with that helicopter?" One of them asked hopefully.

"I don't even know what 'it' is." Were these people fucking stupid?

"It's this giant tank man, 5 stories high." One made a motion with his hands.

"Has five giant cannons on the front." Another held up his fingers.

"There's a giant chain gun of top too." They all grimaced.

"We lost 3 Marine Abrams that day." Another one, their leader I presumed, stepped forward. I scratched my chin. Five cannons? A chain gun?

"Where the fuck does something like THAT come from?" I couldn't imagine any tank being that destructive.

"Secret government project; they looted some research facilities or something." One said smartly.

"Bullshit." Another waved a finger at him. "Only the Lazurians make something like that. They're supplying the raiders to keep us down." I shook my head. I wasn't about to get caught in this conspiracy bullshit.

"Whatever. If I see one, I'll knock it out." I paced back towards the helicopter.

"Good luck fly boy." They called. My brain was trying to diagnose this information. I'd heard of some crazy shit, but a giant tank? It sounded like something from a war film. But what did it matter? The Apache was a flying tank destroyer; we could take out anything. As I got back to the hangers, I paused when something caught my eye.

_"Now what do we have here?"_ I stared across. Sarah was sitting on an oil barrel talking with that girl that got gang raped. She seemed to be talking gently, which was actually pretty rare unless she was discussing something sensitive. The other girl had her head down, nodding yes or no every few seconds. _"Interesting." _I thought. To intrude, or not to intrude?

"You know that chick?" A voice asked. I turned to see one of the younger bomber crewmembers watching the sight with equal curiosity.

"Yeah…what of it?" I narrowed my eyes.

"Jane hasn't spoken to anyone in days. I have no idea how she's getting her to talk" He looked at Sarah as if she was an alien.

"Yeah, well, the bond between women is one of life's mysteries." I shrugged. "How old are you all anyway?"

"16." He replied smugly. I snorted.

"You're wet behind the ears. Don't go parading around. Without us, you're just a bunch of scared kids." I'd never been that cocky; I knew my limits.

"Not the social types are you?" He shrugged and walked off.

"Kids." I muttered. Numbers weren't everything.

"Have you seen my other pilot?" Stone had somehow come up to me without knowing.

"Kim?" She's probably still sleeping. Had nightmares or some shit."

"Do you have any explanation for her behavior?" Stone asked. Well, at least she had the common sense not to bother him with such a cliché problem.

"Just some teenage girl junk. Tell me something old man, how the hell do you deal with all these kids that come through the Air Force?"

"We try to prove to them how serious the matter is. I myself am not always satisfied with the quality of recruits sent to me." He confessed.

"I don't blame you." I pulled out a cigarette. "Some of the stuff these kids complain about is ridiculous."

"Perspective differences between politicians and commanders are very wide." Stone nodded.

"Eh, I don't much give a damn. They can kill can't they?"

"That's the political perspective." Stone turned towards the massive B-52s. "But these recruits haven't partook in any simulation exercises."

"Take off any landing course only?" I asked. These brats would be useless, or worse, hit our own guys. "Remind me to double-check the IFF. And even if they got piss poor aim, we don't. Besides, your planes got AGMs don't they? Surely the man who sunk a carrier isn't afraid of a couple of tanks?"

"I was younger in those days." He reminded me and walked off. Something new rung in my mind: Stone was old, so he'd be retiring any day now. Then who would be leader? Someone tapped on my shoulder. Kim stood there with tired eyes, but that same stupid smile.

"Are you ready?" She asked.

"Kid, I came into this world fighting and I'll go out of it fighting."

X With James X

The air inside the interior of the Chinook was tense. In spite of the chilly weather, I could feel myself sweating. The recruits looked just as nervous as last time, or even more; some of them had thrown up earlier. Sgt. Anderson was still waiting outside for the signal to commence the operation.

36 people were about to depart in this helicopter, and I was beginning to doubt I could call even half of them soldiers. Some 7 of them were out of action from those traps. The two people 'filling in' were spotters from the artillery detachment. The idea was for the MRLS rocket systems to pull up to the edge of the river and be able to fire across to support us. So ran the theory anyway.

The Marines would probably have better luck. After some of the more recent battle casualties, there were about 150 of them. The helicopters were going to funnel all of them across the river. Tough-as-nails leathernecks. We were going to be shown up by the time this day was over, I could feel it.

"Green light! Operation is a go!" Sgt. Anderson and Sgt. Anson stepped into the helicopter and took a seat. "On your toes! We're moving now." The blades above started spinning. The recruits looked sick again.

"Ain't anything none of you have been through before!" Peter tried to ease their nerves. That didn't work too well.

"I better not get back here with a bullet in my neck." One of the spotters complained.

"Stay close to these three." Sgt. Anson motioned to Peter, Sam, and me. "They have experience."

"We won't you let them get you." I assured.

"Damn well better." One of them pulled the bolt on his sub-machine gun. The helicopter lifted off the ground a little.

"You got anymore aspirin?" Sam asked Peter. While he was relatively well off next to the other victims, he still had a dent in his head. Peter reached into his bag for a bottle of pills and handed two to Sam.

"Let's go over the plan one more time ladies." Sgt. Anderson raised a hand for silence. "We'll split into two groups and head down into the valley, Riley will lead group A, and I'll lead group B. Our primary target is any enemy AA. They're likely to have some by now. We clear that, and the Air Wing will give us further support. Questions?" There was silence. "Good."

"ETA, 50 seconds." Carpenter reported.

"Steady boys, they'll be expecting us." Sgt. Anderson tapped on his gun. I glanced out the back ramp to see the rocky ground speeding past.

"30 Seconds." The ground's elevator started going down. "20." Water appeared below. I started wiggling my feet. "10." The crewmember grabbed the rope. Ground appeared below again. The helicopter slowed. This was it. "We're here people!" Sgt. Carpenter yelled.

"Begin descent! Go, go, go!" Sgt. Anderson yelled. The crewmember threw down the rope and glanced at us.

"Good luck." He stuttered. Quick as a flash, I moved out the back. With expert precision born from years of practice, I reached out and grabbed the rope. I locked my legs around and slid down. I hit the ground and brought out my rifle, scanning the rocky landscape for any signs of raiders. Back at the base, with all the other guys, may they rest in peace; we had been a trained and systematic force. One minute after the rope went down, the helicopter would be flying away and we'd be on the move. It took a good two minutes for the helicopter to empty, mainly owing to their novice skill with roping down. I expected an AA tank or a missile to down the bird any minute, but by some miracle, that didn't happen. We all gathered tensely as the helicopter flew off.

"We'll be on standby for medical evacuation." Carpenter assured.

"Gather round, and stay the fuck down!" Sgt. Anderson hissed. They all ducked. All of them were feverishly glancing at the landscape. Ironically, they felt more scared then in the darkness. "You all," Sgt. Anderson pointed to a group of people, including Sam and Peter. "You all come with me. The rest of you follow Riley." He took his group and departed. "And remember: AA takes priority." They disappeared over a hill.

"Move swiftly and silently." Sgt. Anson quickly moved in the opposite direction. The rest of the soldiers followed. I noticed rather quickly the make up of the group: Most of them were the older men or the kids that were doing better in training. Sgt. Anderson had taken most the younger ones; in fact, his group had more people in it. This one had 12. It was slimmer, more experienced, and trusted with a bigger task. I felt a sense of pride that I was chosen.

We paused at the top of a hill. Sgt. Anson glanced over the edge with his scope.

"Enemy armor front, we'll go around." He warned. I carefully peered over the rise to see a lone Abram sitting on another hill not too far ahead. It was too early to blow our cover. We skirted around the mountain, using terrain shifts to hide.

"All groups report in, have you found any enemy AA yet?" It was the Lieutenant. A chorus of 'negative' came in from 5 different voices. The bastards were probably hiding inland more. "Understand, keep searching."

We crawled discretely out of another dip and proceeded forward, scanning the landscape. There could be a sniper out there… My ear suddenly registered the sound of voices not to far ahead. We all froze and got down. The voices didn't change in volume through. They were stationary. Sgt. Anson gave the order and we all slowly crawled over the terrain and peaked over the edge.

Hidden in the dip was a Avenger AA missile van, the mobile SAM of the Rubinelle armed forces. Three individuals were standing around chatting casually. They sure as hell weren't soldiers. If their tattoos said anything, they were just thugs having a little fun.

"This is bullshit man, we've been sitting here all night." One was saying.

"They'll get here eventually. Once their out of the way, rich pickings brother." One rubbed his hands together.

"Think there are any kids there?" The third asked. The other two looked him funny. I gritted my teeth.

"Coleman, Rockefeller." Sgt. Anson whispered to another soldier, a large man who had taken the M249 the other day. "On my move, we need to take them out silently." Sgt. Anson drew his knife. I took mine out of well. There was no way to sneak up; we'd have to charge them. Killing a man with a knife was very different then shooting him, but I had no sympathy for these 'men'.

I perched myself on the edge of the hill and wiped the sweat off my brow. Only had one chance to do this. Rather then give a signal Sgt. Anson simply pounced. I leapt from the hill and charge down the slope. The stunned raiders didn't even have time to draw their side arms. I head-butted the one on the far right in the gut, knocking the wind out of him and breaking a few ribs. I pinned him to ground and shoved his hands out of the way. His eyes widened in horror as I raised my knife. He opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out was a sick gurgling sound as I plunged the knife into this heart. I twisted it and he spat out a glob of blood and went still.

Panting, I looked over to see Rockefeller had opted for a more brutal approach by simply ramming his victims head into the ground enough times to pound his brain to mush. Then I noticed the squirming mass under Sgt. Anson. He'd taken that sick bastard alive.

"What were you saying about children back there?" The other soldiers came down and glared menacingly at him. He was sweating profusely, but his face in the dirt prevented him from talking. Sgt. Anson grabbed his head and yanked him up roughly.

"Tell us the distribution of your forces." He demanded. The raider didn't say anything, instead letting his eyes dart fearfully from angry face to angry face. Sgt. Anson hauled him up roughly and flung him at the missile truck. He screamed in agony and collapsed as his head busted open upon the metal. Sgt. Anson walked over to the sobbing man and hauled him up roughly.

"There are only three trucks. That's all I know, I swear!" He sobbed. Pitiful bastard. "No, please!" He shouted as Sgt. Anson firmly grasped the mans head. _Crack._

"Command, this is group A." Sgt. Anson got on his headset as the limp body fell to the ground. "We've received Intel that the raiders have three mobile AA batteries. We've eliminated one. Say again, there are two missile batteries remaining." Sgt. Anson glanced at the truck.

"Those are major threats to our air forces. Eliminate the remaining batteries immediately." The Captain ordered.

"That's going to be like finding a needle in a haystack." A Marine complained.

"Keep the radio clear fellas." Sgt. Anderson spoke up. Sgt. Anson lifted a panel of the side of the truck, revealing the radar and several buttons to control the missiles. With expert precision, he yanked a couple of wires out. Enough to disable the machine for now, yet leaving it repairable at the same time so we could field it. We went on with our way. We were making good progress. We slunk over another hill.

"Get down!" Sgt. Anson growled. We all immediately hit the dirt. I scanned the horizon frantically for whatever threat he had spotted. Carefully, with the slow and seemingly motionless skill of a sniper, Sgt. Anson took aim. He moved his finger towards the trigger, and then pulled away. He took his eye off the scope. "Follow me and move quickly." He ordered.

"Sniper?" I questioned.

"There's a camouflaged vehicle ahead." He warned. We silently followed him through back and forth through the terrain, crawling the entire way. A sound came from my headset.

"Shit, Apaches approaching the base!" It was a Marine. Apaches? But the raiders didn't have aircraft!

"Repeat that last part." The Captain demanded.

"Apaches, 7 of them, moving towards the camp in attack formation!" The Marine reported frantically. What the hell was going on? They weren't supposed to have any attack craft! Something roared overhead. I gawked in horror.

"We confirm 8 Sky Raiders moving to attack!" Sgt. Anson relayed the sight. The other soldiers beside me stared at the sky in shock.

"Understood, we'll defend the base, continue your objective." The Lieutenant ordered. I took a moment to compose myself. We still had an important job, even with the new development. We crawled faster towards the vehicle.

"Halt." Sgt. Anson raised a hand. The sound of a diesel engine reached us and we watched as a AA tank appeared over a nearby hill and advanced in front of us. Suddenly, in a bizarre moment, the AA tank suddenly disappeared from view, even though we could still hear it. It reappeared suddenly, seemingly melting from the landscape.

"That's the camouflaged vehicle." I whispered.

"Good eye." Sgt. Anson watched the AA tank roll up and stop. One of the other soldiers un-slung an AT-4 from his back. We had about 7 between all of us, counting the two on my back.

"Permission to engage?" He took aim at the AA tank.

"Negative." Sgt. Anson kept staring at the camouflaged form. We weren't but maybe 200 meters away, but we couldn't tell what it was. And suddenly it moved. The sound was massive and accompanied by the sound of the ground sinking an inch. The whole scenery seemed to move. I felt a large lump in my throat. As the vehicle pulled out from the background, I could clearly see the monster hidden under all that netting: a War Tank.

X With Tim X

Damnit, I glanced around at the preparations. We should've been up in the air already. The radio was on in the Apache and I could clearly hear the infantry moving up, though they'd yet to stir a hornet's nest. Why weren't we up in the air yet? Sarah.

She didn't make sense sometimes, like now. She was eager to get into the air, and yet she'd left almost immediately because Kim needed a hand. She had to go fetch the girl from the bathroom in the main building because she fell asleep taking a piss. Seriously, you can't make this stuff up.

I paced around in an agitated matter. Finally, the two of them appeared at the gate. Kim quickly jogged over to her plane and Sarah came running up, panting slightly.

"Sorry." She breathed.

"Should've left her." I commented. "Whatever, let's get going." I walked over to the Apache. She tapped me on the shoulder mid-way. "Yeah?" I turned around. She flung herself on me and pressed her lips to mine. Now, this wasn't the first time we'd done this, far from it actually, it's just we preferred to show affection for each other places more private, not a runway full of people. "What the hell was that about?" I asked when she moved away. I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed.

"Make sure to fly careful today." She called as she climbed up.

"I'm always careful." I grabbed the side of the Apache and hauled myself up and into the pilot seat.

"Be extra careful then. There's something I want to tell you when we're through here." She said.

"What?" I asked. She didn't answer. She plugged in her headset. "What?" I repeated. Nothing. It was pointless to try again. Though I did wonder what she wanted…

"Scramble!" I heard the call from her headphones since she hadn't put them on yet. "Enemy aircraft are inbound, everyone scramble!" The others didn't really hear this since they weren't in their planes, so the news came from the guy who ran up flapping his arms around wildly. Stone's plane was already taxiing.

"Old man moves fast." I commented, punching a few more buttons as the blades above spun up.

"Strike force is made up of Apaches and Sky Raiders, two bombers have also been spotted." The same voice warned. They said these raiders didn't have AA or aircraft, and yet here they had both. Lousy dumbasses. Stone's plane was already gaining altitude as I pulled on the stick.

"Don't let us get shot down." Sarah sounded just a little worried. I bit my lip.

"I promise we'll survive and you can tell me whatever you need too." I told her gently. I put on my own headset. "Alright, someone give me some fucking instructions!" I yelled.

"Just get the fuck out of here!" Control yelled. The Captain must've been busy ordering other units around. I pitched the helicopter and sped forward at low altitude, glancing up for signs of any planes.

"Enemy formation spotted, engaging." It was Stone's voice.

"At least they'll be out of the way for the others." Sarah noticed a smoking crater in the ground. The river appeared ahead. I stopped just short of it. Sarah switched frequencies on the radio. They could deal with those planes, but we had to help out these guys on the ground. Sarah quickly relayed the information into the radar and four blue blips popped up on radar.

"This is Killjoy 3, anyone need a hand?" Sarah asked.

"This is group A, we have a War Tank here." A voice responded. It almost reminded me of Stone. Much to my surprise, no other requests came in. But this was a chance to see this feared War Tank everyone was rambling about. I flew off in that direction. "There's enemy AA nearby, we'll neutralize it for you." You think they would've mentioned that sooner. Their blip on the radar got closer before I could finally see the AA tank on the ground. It started firing. I pitched the helicopter and flew up the side while tracer rounds followed behind us.

"Is that a giant bush?" Sarah asked.

"Firing." A younger voice reported over the radio. Something bright streaked across the landscape and destroyed the AA tank. At the same time, something bright began firing at us. I pulled back to avoid the shots.

"That isn't a bush!" Sarah realized. "Line me up for a rocket salvo." He called. This proved difficult, as this gun was somehow had 360 degree turning, though I managed to escape the trail with a expert roll. "Firing!" Sarah called. A salvo of rockets fired down at the gun.

_"So that's a War Tank."_ I thought. The rockets didn't blow anything up; instead they simply burned away all the camo nets. This fucking think was huge! It was just liked the described it.

"What the FUCK?" Judging by her reaction, I guessed Sarah hadn't got the memo.

"I'll line up in front of it, aim for the cannons." I ordered. She glanced up at me, still clearly unsure, but nodded. She always trusted me. Lights started flashing in the cockpit.

"Evade!" She called. I rolled the helicopter so violently I thought my stomach had burst. The fighter jet roared by so close that the helicopter rocked from the shock wave.

"Relocate!" Sarah ordered the guys on the ground. "We'll get the tank."

"Understood." The line went dead. Sarah changed frequencies quickly. I jerked my head back and forth looking out the cockpit for that damn plane.

"We need top cover, the enemy has fighter jets!" Sarah quickly relayed the information.

"Hold on! We'll be there in a minute." It was Kim, speaking hurriedly.

"We won't last half a minute!" I yelled back in frustration. The lights flashed again. "Fucker!" I evaded by just a few inches and the fighter jet roared back into the sky. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the War Tank hauling ass to get out of here. I saw the fighter diving back down for another go. A missile came streaking from behind it and detonated on the tail. The fighter went down in a blaze of smoke. A F-15 and 2 F-4s roared above.

"Thanks for keeping us." I muttered sarcastically. "You okay, Sarah?" I called down. My stomach felt like hell.

"I'm OK." She gave a thumb up signal.

"Sorry." A male voice shook. One of those F-4s had to belong to one of those kids.

"Where the hell our preys go?" I rotated the helicopter around, trying to find it. I spotted it in the distance. That thing couldn't move very fast. "I'll bring her around front." Sarah nodded.

The gunner had probably been killed in that last barrage, so that just left those cannons.

"Hit that son of a bitch with everything you got!" I yelled once I had it line up perfectly. Sarah punched the button. Not 1, not 2, but 6, 6 Hellfire missiles flew towards it. The thing was enveloped in smoke and halted suddenly. Come on… The smoke cleared. "Fuck you and your giant tank!" I yelled triumphantly. The front of that thing was deformed beyond recognition.

"War Tank is no longer a factor." I reported. This was met with cheering by what seemed like the whole damn Battalion.

"Yeah, but we're already low of munitions." Sarah warned me. I scowled. It was only one tank!

"Doesn't matter, let's just make them count." I told her.

XX Author's note XX

The statistics don't lie. Views, how do they work? 87. 87 views since I posted my last chapter. I don't know what's scarier: the fact I got that many, or that the last chapter has twice as many views as the one before it.

In preparation for later chapters, I will be increasing my word limit roof from 6k a chapter to 10k. I honestly see myself spending dozens of chapters describing one level anyway. Hell, a Hero's Farwell will take at least 10 chapters to get through.

I would like to use this author's note to inform my readers of a tragedy that encouraged me to include the bully sub-arc. I read a news story a few weeks ago about a Marine that committed suicide. He was an immigrant who was bullied by his squad mates, other Marines, U.S. servicemen. I personally found the story sickening and a horrible example of the military. It has encouraged me to include this small side plot within Tim's story, so that I can open the eyes of my readers.


	22. The Beast II

X With James X

My lungs were burning as we all charged across the rocky landscape. New did not slow down in the slightest reason. Even if the War Tank was gone, the enemy sure as hell knew that we'd snuck in. The air wing as already here, which was worrying me since there still had to be plenty of AA about. We had to move fast.

"This is Marine group A!" The voice was nearly drowned out by gunfire. "AA system neutralized, under heav-" A explosion cut off the rest of the sentence.

"Can you repeat that last part?" The Apache gunner called.

"Radioman's dead!" It was a different voice. "Heavy enemy fire, need air support!" They sounded desperate. 4 of the Air Wing pilots responded. God save those men...

We paused at the top of a steep hill. We had a decent view of most the land below. I instinctively crouched to conceal myself. The others caught on and followed suit. Sgt. Anson skillfully observed the valley through his scope. If there was a sniper out there, he'd find it.

"Move up." He ordered at last, motioning down the hill. Maneuvering down the hill involved a lot of slipping, sliding, and in one soldier's case, tumbling. We made it down in one piece though. This place was vast.

"All enemy aircraft have been shot down, repeat, all enemy aircraft are K.I.A, no damage done to friendly structures or units." It sounded like the Air Wing Captain. I breathed a sigh of relief. We may triumph the raiders yet.

Another rumbling sound reached our ears and we hit the dirt again.

"Where's it coming from?" One of the soldiers asked. I looked around. Several shapes appeared on the edge of the hill we'd just come down from. I mentally swore when I realized two of the vehicles were rockets. We simply could not allow the raiders to retain such weapons. One of the other vehicles was an AA tank. That ruled air support. The remaining vehicles were a M2 and an Abram. I looked at Sgt. Anson for orders. He was just finishing instructions to the air wing. A soldier un-slung the heavy tube, only for Sgt. Anson to put a hand up for him to stop.

"Observe." He pointed up. We all glanced up into the red sky. The gradual roar of a jet fighter was over-cased by the AA tank firing into the sky, it's bright tracer rounds giving it the appearance of a laser. A fighter swooped in, just fast enough to be ahead of the AA rounds. A single bomb detached from underneath and the F-4 rolled away and pulled back up just a few meters from the ground. The ridge exploded. The two rockets, as well as the M2, were obliterated. The force knocked the AA tank over to edge, sending in flipping down the slope before coming to rest at the bottom as a mangled heap. The Abram promptly got the hell out of dodge. The other soldiers gave awed reactions. "A skilled pilot can still function even with AA present." Sgt. Anson explained.

"Wait, so why are we putting ourselves in so much danger?" One of them sounded confused. I knew this one: it was because the bombers were slow, and more prone to being hit. Before I could say this, Sgt. Anson answered.

"Because it's your job." He said in the same flat tone as always.

"The bombers will never survive." I interjected quickly. "They're too slow; The AA will shoot them down." The soldier scratched his head.

"Uhh…we're still not that use to the whole 'do everything without question' stuff."

"You'll get use to it." I told him. "Some orders may come as unpleasant, but there is a point to why they have to be done. It's all important to the big picture." Sgt. Anderson had told us the exact same thing in training. I could have sworn I saw Sgt. Anson glance back at me. Or maybe he was just checking the surroundings.

X With Tim X

The chain gun swept along the landscape, tearing apart the raiders in a bloody mess. The Marines advanced as the gaps in the line widened. One of the newbies planes (I could tell simply by the slow and unsteady approach) flew by and did a quick strafing run, adding further casualties. Sarah tried to find another place to fire, but was unable due to the proximity of friendly forces. Those guys sure liked fighting close and personal.

"Their falling back, thanks for the help!" The new radioman reported. We could see quite easily from this vantage point the large amount of dead or dying being carried away. Damn.

"We'll advance with you." Sarah assured. I pitched the helicopter forward to follow. They moved across the rocky terrain with ease. Leathernecks were probably right at home… Someone else came onto the channel.

"Tim! Sarah!" It was Kim. She sounded frantic. "That plane that just passed, it got shot down 200 meters ahead of you." She quickly relayed the same details to the ground troops. I pulled back to bring us to a halt.

"Fuck, we can't go further." I swore. That kid went down too. First mission and he was already dead.

"We'll advance to the sight!" The Marines volunteered.

"Yeah, we'll come up the other side too. You just comb the landscape!" It was that giant army dude I kept seeing. There was two groups advancing toward it; if they couldn't find it, I was going to be pissed.

"Copy, we'll patrol." Sarah replied. I turned the helicopter and set off. More prey was probably that way, but I wasn't going near that missile. Not after what happed last time. Sarah switched channels. "When are those bombers coming in?" She asked.

"We're approaching now." A young voice replied. Here already? Damn, they were going to get all the kills. Something caught my eye: a group of people moving below. I stopped the helicopter.

"Those our guys?" I looked at the radar. The nearest blue blip was quite a ways away. I pulled to the side as bullets started ringing off the side.

"Doesn't look like it!" Sarah pulled the trigger. The offenders were torn apart. The gun stopped spinning.

"I'm tired of grunts. Where are the tanks? The artillery?" I looked around. Surely they had more then a few planes and choppers?

"They're probably further inland." Sarah reminded me. Man, this wasn't a very eventful battle.

X With James X

"Enemy armor! Another War tank!" It was Sgt. Anderson. I felt a bead of sweat fall down the front of my face. Another one? How many of these did they have? Where did they even get them?

"This sector doesn't have a lot of activity." Sgt. Anson commented. He looked around.

"They probably don't have the common sense to form a even front." I suggested.

"Very plausible." He agreed. The group paused randomly, searching the landscape for the enemy. It was almost like most of their power had been in aircraft and artillery.

We clawed our way up another rise in the terrain. I thought that there weren't a lot of vehicles because the ground inhibited movement. As we overcame the rise, I caught a very brief glimpse of a large mass that did not blend with the background. I however did not have enough time to individually label everything.

"Get down!" We all pressed ourselves to the ground. Cautiously, very cautiously, we peeked over the hill. It was a enemy camp. There had to be at least 60 raiders down there! There were a couple of Humvees and light tanks as well. This had to be at least a tenth of their overall strength! I felt myself sweat a little.

"We taking them on?" Rockefeller asked.

"Don't fucking bet on it." Collins breathed. The others shifted nervously. For all their toughness and pace in accelerated training, this was beyond even what a fully trained group of soldiers could handle.

"This is Heliborne group A, are the bombers or artillery online?" Sgt. Anson peered at the mass through his scope. It was amazing they didn't notice us.

"Yeah, we're in the air." The voice was young.

"Is that a boy or a girl?" A solider asked. I wasn't actually sure myself…I took a moment to seriously consider if I wanted to same support that could save my life to be controlled by someone so young…

"Do you understand?" Sgt. Anson had just finished relaying the coordinates to the pit beneath us.

"Copy, War bird 6 will be over the target area in two minutes." Sgt. Anson quickly ushered for us to go the other way. He must've had similar reserves about the matter, cause he led us quite a ways out. We settled on a rocky outcrop, accompanied by two thin trees. I pulled out my binoculars and focused them towards the camp. From this elevation, I could only see the top of their heads.

"How do they plan to hit something from up there?" I took a moment to look up. The B-52 flashed in and out of the clouds as it got closer.

"Bomb sights." I explained. I stared at it a moment longer before something dawned on me. "Sgt. Anson." I asked. "Do bombers normally fly that high?" We'd seen a lot of war footage, and I never saw bombers attack from that height.

"No, they're suppose to decrease speed and altitude before releasing their payload." He shook his head.

"Why are they that high then?" Rockefeller asked.

"They might be worried about the AA." I pointed out.

"So they don't have faith in us." A soldier spat sourly. The low whistling of the falling bombs finally arrived, growing louder and louder. We all turned back to the pit. Some of the bombs hit short of their mark. The area between us and the pit, as well as the pit itself, still got hit. The sound was enough to make me cover my ears. The bombs sent black smoke and gravel high into the air. I could faintly hear the others laughing. Those bastards were probably ash by now. It was two minutes before the smoke cleared. The bomber was already long gone.

"Yahoo!" A solider pulled off his helmet and tossed it up before catching it. They were all grinning victoriously. Even I found myself smirking. I wish I could've been able to seen their faces right before they died. Serves them right. Sgt. Anson however, looked displeased.

"Sir?" I asked. "Do you think there were any survivors?" He shook his head.

"Doubtful, though they expended more bombs then needed. It was a waste of valuable munitions."

"Wait, so they made a mistake?" The others paused.

"Yes." Sgt. Anson replied flatly with distaste. "Let's move, there are more raiders out there." He strode off and we quickly fell in behind him. The smell of burnt flesh and rubber was drifting over towards us. The others gagged.

"Riley!" Sgt. Anderson called over the radio. In the background was much more noise then I ever could've imagined. "River is shallow on this end; all the raiders are over here. I got 3 guys dead, we need some fucking support!" There was a large explosion in the background. "Fuck, that nearly hit me!" I felt a horrid sense of dread. There were still plenty of troops on the other side of the river, but the casualties… And our own unit. 3 dead? Who was dead? Peter? Sam? I felt my heart race.

"Double time it! Move!" Sgt. Anson didn't wait to see if we were following. We had what we were carrying. They had tanks and god only knew what. How many more men wouldn't walk away from this battle?

X With Tim X

"There's no fucking end to these guys!" I swore as another RPG nearly hit the helicopter. Down below was a complete wasteland. There were burnt out vehicles and bodies laying everywhere, mostly on the other side though. Sitting on it's side a couple of yards back was the War Tank.

Stone was old, but the man had guts. Even if there was AA, he had charged right into the zone to suppress any raiders near the downed plane. Hell, the old man even tracked the direction and took out the missile himself. The result of his (as well as Kim's; the girl had been crazy enough to follow him in) work was strewn across the landscape. Since all of them had gone back to rearm and one of the bombers STILL hadn't arrived. I swore those kids weren't even out of basic training. We were the only ones giving these guys support. They were rolling on hard. Hell, they'd even already rescued that kid that went down. Apparently, he was only in shock. Welcome to war kiddo.

"Moving ahead!" My mutual respect for these guys was growing. They were outnumbered, I'd seen a few drop dead, and they had little support, and they _still_ kept going. There's bravery, then there's this shit.

"That's our last hellfire missile." Sarah reported as the weapon in question disappeared down range to obliterate a tank.

"Rockets?" I asked.

"Out." She reported. I sighed.

"Chain gun?"

"344 rounds left." She checked her panel.

"Make it count." I shrugged. Damn, we would be leaving these guys defenseless. I moved the helicopter side to side to give her a better shot. She used rounds even more conservatively. Fuck, there were a few tanks coming this way.

"We're out." Sarah reported. I bit my lip. Shit. "We're out, returning to rearm." Sarah passed the word down to the ground.

"Copy, we can handle ourselves." They didn't seem daunted. With extreme reluctance, I turned back. When we were over the river, Kim got on the radio.

"Guys, I'm back in the air! Both the bombers are attacking targets further away, I'll try and coordinate strikes against the enemy!"

"Well hurry up with it!" Sarah snapped. "Things are looking pretty bad down there."

X With James X

"ETA 4 Minutes. Landing zone will be hot." Carpenter warned. In a effort to get as many men to the real fight, the helicopters had picked up the groups operating on the other side of the field. I kept my headset on so I could hear what was going on. My earlier fears had faded. The battle wasn't a desperate fight for survival anymore, but as it seemed, the raiders were more screwed then we were. Our own guys sounded absolutely pissed, and every few seconds there was a report about the raiders abandoning their position.

"You sound like a rowdy bunch." Rockefeller commented to one of the Marines sitting in the helicopter.

"We heel to no enemy, so matter what." He said, cocking his rifle. "You don't fuck with us and go home healthy."

"2 Minutes." Carpenter called after a moment. I made sure my rifle was loaded and switched to fully automatic. Unlike the other two instances, we would disembark in the middle on a battlefield. Anything could happen. This was it. The battle would be over in a span of roughly two hours. Our own armor was gathering on the other side of the river, but hopefully they wouldn't be needed. We would be the ones to defeat the raider advance. There was a low whine as the ramp went down. I readied my stance.

"Sounds lively down there." A Marine commented. There were a series of clings as bullets bounced off the frame.

"Fuck!" Another Marine swore as a stray bullet blew out a window. We'd have to get to cover as soon as we got out there. The helicopter shook as it touched down.

"Move!" Someone yelled. We all rushed down and onto the rough soil. We all were on the ground before anything as bullets whizzed over our heads. Still taking fire, both the helicopters took off. I risked looking up to try and find the others. _There!_ The rest of them were gathered nearly 100 meters forward, taking cover behind whatever was available. We cautiously approached the line in a crouched stature. Most of the bullets were flying past them and towards us.

A Marine's head just in front of me suddenly exploded in a violent spray. I blinked as something warm splashed against my cheek. Growling in frustration, I kept moving. I heard the unmistakable sound of metal hitting flesh behind me again. I flung myself down and began to crawl the last few meters. I crawled up behind a boulder with another member of the company. He was sweating profusely and his hands shook to the point it took seven times just to get another clip into the rifle.

I looked back to see the others climbing up. I wiped the mess off my face and leaned out to search for the enemy. The raiders were taking cover on the bare ground. I took aim with my rifle and squeezed the trigger. I narrowed my eyes. Nothing. I fired again. I growled in frustration. This terrain was giving them a defensive advantage.

"James!" I ducked back down as Peter crawled over. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I was worried when I heard casualties." I slipped in another clip.

"A couple of the kids, a tank found them." Peter shook his head. He re-adjusted his MP5.

"Bastards. Poor kids didn't deserve it." We both leaned out and fired.

X With Tim X

"C'mon, c'mon! Fuck." I muttered while the crew ran back and forth out side. I tapped a finger on the control stick impatiently. The others were chatting over the radio and coordinating strikes against targets. Apparently, they were taking out most of the vehicles and armor. From what I could hear, Kim was coordinating bomber strikes against targets on the other side of the field. They wanted these guys wiped out.

"You're clear!" The crew called over the radio. Bought fucking time. We took back off and went back to the battlefield. Those guys on the ground could use some help against enemy infantry. When we got back, they'd already moved up quite a bit. Stone and those kids were swooping down every now and then to strafe the infantry.

"We're on line for support."

"Most the good targets are gone already." I mumbled. Sarah quickly set to work on the enemy infantry.

"The picture is clear over here." Kim called. "Both bombers still have some munitions left. Should we come over?"

"On the double." Stone replied. "We have sight on a large amount of foot hostiles."

"How the hell do so many animals live together in this place?" Sarah asked with disgust.

"Who knows?" I shrugged. "Let's just put them down."

X With James X

"Move up! Down the fuckers!" Sgt. Anderson's voice sounded as a rally. Not bothering to find cover, I simply took aim and fired. We were on a full-blown offensive. We kept moving up, and they kept falling back. Three Marines had got hit, but no one was dead from what I could tell. On the other hand, we left the corpses of those bastards lying behind us. When it all came down to it, we were superior. We had better training, the will to win, and karma on our side.

"Forward Marines!"

"Victory is in site. Don't mess up." Sgt. Anson said flatly. We pushed again over the terrain. I pressed myself down as bullets flew at us. I paused, waiting for a break in the fire. One didn't come. I glanced up. There was something about the posture of these raiders that sent a spurt of adrenaline through my mind. These guys had experienced, not just some thug rift-raft. There were also quite a few of them.

"Keep back! Bomber coming in for a run." Sgt. Anderson called. "Danger close!" We all carefully edged back, keeping low to avoid the bullets. I glanced up to see a massive shape approaching in the sky: A B-52.

I fired off towards the raiders again, spotting one go down. The roar of the plane was closer. In all honesty, I do not recall clearly the exact occurrence of things. But what I do recall was the whistling of bombs, the heat of fire, and being engulfed completely in dust.

I coughed violently and rolled over, gasping for oxygen that wasn't there. I could hear or see anything. I suddenly felt myself lift off the ground. My coughing caused my body to spasm wildly. I tried to blink the tears out of my eyes. I found myself back on my feet and someone large hit me in the back. I started hacking and collapsed forward, blinking to see rocky soil below me. Sgt. Anderson wordlessly went back in for more men.

"Hate to get into a fist fight with him." Collins coughed beside me. We dragged ourselves up and stumbled forward. There was a lot of swearing and panic as the Marines and our company stumbled out of the smoke.

"Too fucking close man, too fucking close!" Sam emerged coughing and rolled down an incline. We both picked him up and dragged him away.

"What the fuck was that?" Collins asked.

"Bombs hit a little too close." I coughed. "They must've been extra-explosive or something." I coughed and suddenly served around before throwing up. My knees trembled and this time Sam and Collins both helped me up. Everyone was dragging each other away from the drifting cloud of smoke. I could hear Sgt. Anson a few yards away, demanding an explanation. Why the hell had those bombs landed so close?

X With Tim X

Have you ever wanted to kill somebody? Strangle them until they turn blue? I wanted to do that to someone.

"Fuck!" The helicopter lurched back and alarms started going off as the whole bird was engulfed in dust. The engines could stall any minute. Sarah yelped and I jumped as something bounced off the front canopy, leaving a very large crack in the glass. I jerked the helicopter back and out of the dust cloud. Several soldiers below scattered. I quickly pulled the stick to gain altitude. Okay, now as long as the engines didn't shut down, we'd probably live.

"What the fuck was that?" Sarah asked, staring at the cloud. There was a annoying buzzing in my ear and I unplugged my headset. Great, some of the electronics were probably overloaded. The helicopter shuttered violently.

"God Damnit!" I swore. "I'm nursing her back to camp, she ain't going to stay in the air like this." I swore I was going kill Kim when we got back. Who the fuck orders a bombing run _that_ close? Stupid fucking cunt.

X With James X

We wearily dragged ourselves back over the landscape, past all the burning raider tanks. The dust was beginning to clear. The radio was alive with traffic as everyone tried to make sure everyone was accounted for. I went over to help a kid that was puking everywhere.

"I don't think I'm cut out for this." He confessed as I helped him away.

"It was just a mistake." I said. At least I _hoped_ it was a mistake. "The bomber crews are trainees, like you." His face was still pale and sweating. Somewhere over the muddled mess that was my mind, I could here the Lieutenant ordering for us all to get back to camp.

I set the dazed boy on a rock and looked around. As far as I could tell, there was no one seriously injured. I wiped the sweat off my forehead and slumped down on the ground. I pulled out my canteen and took a gracious gulp of its contents. Setting it down, I noticed both of the Chinooks coming in for landing. As I got up, I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Sgt. Anson. He pointed over to where Peter and a few other sickly looking recruits were. I saw three shapes resting on the ground at their feet.

_"Three casualties." _The words wrung in my head. Knowing what he meant, I nodded and got up. All three of them were kids, just like Peter had said. Two boys and one girl. Their uniforms were matted and flayed. Their eyes had already been closed. They looked even younger now. I felt a lump in my throat. These kids hadn't deserved this. Why not me? Why not someone who walked this path with confidence and understanding, someone who had willingly let their youth go? And not had it taken from them?

Neither the Marines nor us immediately went back to camp. There was a ritual we had to perform first. When a soldier dies, they should be given infinite respect. But as we placed their rifles at the head of their graves, I wondered: would they get that respect? For all we knew, these graves would be pillaged by passing survivors. The raiders were a embodiment of a horrid concept: there was no respect for life anymore, let alone sacrifice.

As we all bowed our heads, Sgt. Anderson broke the silence. "They died as brave soldiers, who willingly took this risk for the sake of others. They died as selfless heroes." He declared. They would rest here forever, free of torment, misery, or responsibility, but for us, we still had a job to do, and people to protect. Some of the younger kids stayed behind to stand by the graves a bit longer. What would this do to the unit? In the last battle, we hadn't experienced any death. But now…would any of them change their minds? Would Sgt. Anderson and Anson let them?

"Worst part of the job." Sam hung his head down as we boarded the helicopter.

"Yeah, but in this line of work, it happens." Peter sounded just as dejected.

"We all got to be strong though." I pointed out.

"Yeah." Sam nodded absentmindedly. He stopped on the ramp and stared out at the landscape. I thought I saw his mouth move, but I didn't hear any words.

"Alright folks." Sgt. Carpenters voice was low, as if we could sense the helicopter being lighter now they it had been. "I guess we better get back to camp."

X With Tim X

The engines powered down and the blades stopped spinning. They had been pretty choppy anyway. I climbed down and caught Sarah when she came down. I stared around the runway. Where was that little bitch?

"You only have that look on your face when you're about to attack someone." Sarah watched me cautiously.

"Damn right I'm going to. Who the fuck orders a strike that close? We could've got killed!" I motioned back to the large crack in the canopy.

"I'm sure she didn't mean it." I snorted. "Think for a moment." Sarah sounded slightly annoyed. "She cares about everyone else way more then she cares about herself. Does that sound like the sort of person who would do that?" She crossed her arms. I growled and shook my head.

"Well, someone has to take the blame for this." I stormed off. She jogged on beside me.

"Just don't overreact. She's been nice to you for a long time, even if you choose to ignore it. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this." I stopped and scratched the back of my head. As the irritation wore off, I rethought the occurrence. Hell, if anything, she's order the strike too far back.

"Fine." I admitted grudgingly. "We'll ask what happened." We walked over to where the planes were parked. They'd all gotten back before us. Though as we got closer, we could hear two voices going back and forth at each other. One was definite Kim, a flustered one at that.

"You disobeyed my instructions! I ordered that strike farther away!" That was her all right.

"You need glasses, the coordinates wouldn't have hit them." An irritated and high-pitched voice shot back. The brat.

"You nearly hit our own forces!" She insisted.

"Who fucking cares? They lived." We walked around a plane to see the show. Kim was standing in front of the brat with a red face and a frown. The brat, who was actually about two inches shorter then her, stood there like a king or something. Most of the other young pilots were gathered a few feet away, watching the spectacle with interest. There weren't even going to intervene!

"You showed a complete disrespect to your orders, your superiors, and the soldiers you were went to protect!"

"Superiors?" He laughed. "Like you're any better then me? You're just some prissy little broad." He shoved her roughly. Ok, now that pissed me off. Sarah tensed up beside me. I thought I saw her fist curl up.

"Don't touch me!" Kim stepped back.

"Or what?" He said accusingly. "What are you going to do, huh?" He took a step forward. "What?" He shoved her roughly in the chest. The crowd shifted, though they didn't say anything. This was exactly the reason I fucking hated young people. They were all the same; it didn't matter if they were at the orphanage or in the air force. Sensing his audience's approval, he upped the ante. This kid was a complete fucking asshole! "Like you're going to be superior at anything." He shoved her roughly to the ground. That's it, I had seen enough. If training hadn't knocked some sense into him, I sure as hell was about too. Or maybe not.

Sarah stomped past me, her palm closed tightly. The brat didn't notice till she was practically right in front of him.

"And what- WHAM! Sarah's fist connected with the side of his face and he went down. I thought I saw several of his teeth bounce across the ground. She then kicked him squarely in the gut. I whistled and paced around to where Kim was while the kid was getting the shit kicked out of him. I helped her up. Poor girl looked mortified.

"Aren't you going to stop her?" She asked.

"Eh, she'll stop when she's finished." I shrugged.

"That's enough!" A voice commanded. Everyone paused.

"Oh fuck." I muttered. Trotting over in a (well, to a average person anyway) intimidating way was Stone and the Lieutenant. Neither looked please.

"I said that's enough!" The Lieutenant said sharply. Sarah paused with her foot still in the air. The brat groaned and rolled over clutching his stomach, blood flowing out of his nostrils. Sarah stood back near Kim and me. She looked absolutely livid. This was something, because she rarely ever got this pissed off. The brat pulled himself up, trying to look dignified.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked the two soldiers flanking the Lieutenant. "Shoot her! She tried to kil-

"You have no room to talk." He Lieutenant cut him off. She stalked towards him. Having actually sensed a real threat, he in turn took a step back. "I saw your file and you have a history of direct conflict with following orders." She stalked towards him, and he backed up again. Couldn't blame him; her tone was terrifying on its own. The other kids quietly left the scene. "I will tell you right now that that behavior will not be tolerated here. Had it been up to me, I would have had you thrown out well before. But I am in charge here. And if you recklessly endanger our troops again, I will see to it personally that you're tied to a tree and left to die." The kid backed up into the plane. Shame his eyes were bruised; I couldn't see the fear in them. "Do I make myself clear?" The kid didn't answer right away.

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered. The Lieutenant took a step forward.

"Yes, _sir_." He corrected himself. Apparently deciding to let the sarcasm slide, she stepped back. The kid brushed past to where the others had gone. I snorted. How the hell can someone be raised to be that- The Lieutenant raised a hand. One of the soldiers grabbed Sarah's arm.

"Hey!" I yelled. "What's the big fucking idea?" I moved forward, only to have a gun shoved in my face. The soldier put both hands behind her back. What got me was that she didn't even object. "What the hell?" I demanded, turning to the Lieutenant. "That fucking kid-

"Her conduct is highly unprofessional and just as intolerable." She silenced me. Behind her, Stone shook his head and turned around. "We can not have our own soldiers attacking each other."

"What the hell are you going to do?" I demanded. I felt a drop of sweat rolling down my forehead. Talk about being in deep shit. This was a combat zone, not to mention one with no outside world. Punishments were going to be harsh.

"It's not my place to decide." She motioned her arm and the soldier led Sarah off. I stepped forward, only to have the same asshole block me again. As they all walked off, I felt my hand twitch and move towards my gun.

"Don't!" Kim grabbed my arm. I rounded on her.

"Like you have any fucking place to speak." She stepped back. "She got in trouble, defending YOU!" I pointed a finger at her. "Why the fuck can't you look after yourself for a change? You're fucking pathetic." I didn't realize I was stalking forward with each word. She actually looked terrified. Stone stepped in between us.

"That's enough." He said simply.

"Enough? Enough? What the fucks wrong with you? Look at this picture! We'll dealing with a bunch of stupid inbred-

"I think they've been encouraged to straighten up a little." Sarah said behind me. I snorted.

"Yeah, and the-" wait? Sarah? I spun around. She was standing right there, apparently watching my show with a hint of amusement. My bran shut down for a moment.

"Didn't they arrest you?" Kim had recovered from her fright and looked confused. Stone didn't looked that surprised, but he definitely didn't expect her. I walked around the plane and stared. The Lieutenant was walking away, towards the two Chinooks that were landing.

"They let me go." Sarah shrugged.

"Why?" I asked. This didn't make a whole lot of sense.

"I just explained what happened and she let me off with a warning."

"You explained? What explanation could possibly get you off the hook for that?" Okay, this was becoming confusing.

"Follow me and I'll tell you." She walked off, leaving me to scratch my head. I felt two small hands pushing my back.

"Go on." Kim urged, forgetting the earlier incident.

"Uh…yeah." I shook my head and started moving (hell would freeze before they got an apology out of me). I caught up to her standing near one of the hangers.

"You know, you look like rapid good when you're angry." She told me. "And just like a dog, you cry if I leave." She laughed.

"Hey!" My face felt red. "Have you seen that women? She doesn't fuck around. Who the hell knows what would've happened to you?" She shrugged.

"What'd you tell her anyway?" I asked.

"I just told her how something he said really upset me."

"Really? What?" I asked. She glanced around.

"There are too many people here. Let's find somewhere more private. You're the first person I want to tell the whole story to."

XX Author's note XX

My influence for this story comes from many places: books, movies, documentaries, and other fanfics. History, WW2 more often, is something I look to. During the blitz, RAF pilots were spoiled whenever the Luftwaffe wasn't attacking. They got girls, free admission to any clubs that hadn't burned down, and extra stuff despite the rations. Though when the time came, they performed their task with extreme skill.

James' side of the story was an idea that came to be after I read a translated joural page in a history book. It was by a Soviet officer in charge of a bunch on draftees, some who had never held a gun.

The next chapter might take a while to get out. I want it to be perfect, because it is very important to the history and development of my OCs. Given, someone who watched enough crime dramas probably already pieced together half of it.

Please leave a review on your way out.


	23. Chapter 22

950 Views? I simply don't know what to say! Though I guess I should admit I'm nervous about posting this chapter. Solid OCs is vital to these types of stories, but I wonder if I'm overdoing it sometimes. This chapter is especially rated M, and extremely awkward and angst-like. It also is almost entirely OC based. If you wish not to read and instead skip, I wouldn't blame you. Disturbing content ahead folks. You have been warned.

X With James X

I peered intently under the cup, trying to shield the sight from the others. Everyone had loyalty to a player, couldn't let a spy see. Any one of the people in the barrack's common area could be one.

"I'll bet that…there's five 3's." Sam wagered. Liar's Dice was a fun game. Sam had 'barrowed' it from the barracks. Peter and me already knew how to play; an old lady who'd lived a few doors down from us taught us when we were young. Aside from fun, it seemed to have gained the attention of all the younger recruits. This was good; they dwelled less on the loss for the moment.

"You're bluffing." Peter challenged. The recruits all backed up in surprise. I peered under my cup again. I had one 3. We all removed our cups and stared at our dice. Peter had zero. Sam had 2. That was only three. The recruits reared back dramatically. Muttering, Sam tossed his die towards the small pile of die sitting center of the table. We shook and set down the cups again. I had one 3, one 5, and a 1.

"I'll bet…" I thought for a moment. "There's…. four 3s." I said confidently. There were 9 dice on the table, so it was a possibility. Much to my surprise, neither of them challenged me. The game was beginning to draw more of a crowd; some of the Marines who had been on the op came over. We shook and set them down again. I peered under my cup. I had…three 6s? Hmm.

"Two 1s." Peter challenged.

"3 sixes." I raised the stakes. Peter and Sam glanced under their cups ahead.

"You're bluffing!" Sam accused me first. I triumphantly showed my set. Sam's face fell. "Son of a bitch." He muttered, casting away one of his two remaining die.

"Were there games during the Great War?" I glanced up to see a recruit asking Sgt. Anderson.

"Yep." He said as-a-matter-of-factly. "It was called 'Don't get shot by the sniper'. Those bastards wasting a couple of officers while they were still in the camp." The recruit backed up uncertainly. I had decided in the past hour to use two labels: 'Recruit' for all the young ones, since they knew little, and 'soldiers' for the older bunch, since they were a little more seasoned.

"Umm…Hi?" A voice said behind us uncertainly. We all turned. It was that same pilot, the blond girl. Her face was red with embarrassment. "I just wanted to apologize to all of you about earlier; there was a error in communications." She explained.

"I hardly find that possible." Sgt. Anson crossed his arms. "We broadcasted the coordinates on open channels. You mean to tell me not one pilot figured it out." If looks could kill, that girl would already be buried.

"The recruits are still training. They did have your best interests at heart though!" She added.

"Suffocating us and breaking my buddies leg is our 'best interests?'" A Marine commented closely. I wondered if she would faint.

"We get it kid, now scram." Sgt. Anderson waved a massive hand. "It's no one's fault." She looked very uncomfortable, but still left, glancing back a few times. "Damn kids." Sgt. Anderson muttered.

"What type of shit does the Air Force pull?" Sam asked. "Why the fuck do they let kids control all the high-tech and expensive junk?"

"That 'junk' saved lives." Sgt. Anson reminded him.

"Well, the recruiting policy goes back to the Great War, actually." Sgt. Anderson sat down. We all crowded around. This meant a story.

"You see, the government was in full swing to rebuild the armed forces after the war, cause everyone honestly thought that Lazuria was going to invade. Millions of men flocked to the Army, Marines, National Guard, hell, militias popped up everywhere! We trained them with sticks because there weren't enough guns, and most of them slept outside without a tent! 5 million men joined the army without pay, true patriotism!" He declared. There were nods of appreciation around the table.

"A lot of effort went to the navy though." Sgt. Anderson recalled. "An invasion could come from the sea, or the air. I strong navy could counter both of those. They hauled serious ass. When the war ended, there were only 5 Capital ships. 5." He said dramatically. He counted off with his fingers. "2 battleships: The Hellhound and the Garm. A battle cruiser: The Doberman. And two carriers, I think one was called Odin." He scratched his chin. "Anyway, that wasn't shit compared to how much coast we had, so the Navy started recovering the wreckage of any ship they could find. Heavy cruisers, light cruisers, destroyers, battleships, carriers, hell, we watched this on this news: They dragged up the two halves of a battleship and in 17 days of tireless working, welded that fucker back up good as new!" He put his fist down on the table, causes it to collapse in turn. He didn't notice.

"The Air Force was a different story though." His tone changed. "After the war ended, we had experienced Lazurian aces on one side, and a handful of rookies on our side. It would've been a turkey shoot. No matter what the Air Force did, it could not recruit enough fighter pilots. There weren't enough people who could pass training that wanted to fight, so what they did, was say 'Fuck the whole damn recruiting process', and let in anyone who wanted to fly get a plane.

"The results were catastrophic is some areas." Sgt. Anson told us. "Many fatalities were reported due to stress on an untrained body."

"There have been a lot of advancements in Ariel combat in the past few years." Sgt. Anderson said. "Planes can do just about anything now, so the government wants as many as possible. The recruitment policy is just beefed up a little, but they still stress younger recruits, saying they are more fit and can learn easier."

"The idea only looked good on paper though." Sgt. Anson said.

"Depends." Sgt. Anderson raised a finger. "The army operated the same way, as does the whole military. We need soldiers to be fit, energetic, and charismatic. Young people are the best bet."

"There's no guarantee they will act mature though. Many will still act like High School students." Sgt. Anson pointed out.

"Wouldn't be human if they didn't! A off duty soldier can be one of the most fun bastards to hang around with!" Sgt. Anderson got up. "It's a matter of balance: can they act professional in uniform" He made sure the entire Helicopter company was looking at him. "There is absolutely no reason-" He seemed to addressing them directly- "that you can't still act young and still wear the uniform. You just have to learn control in certain situations. I want all of you to remember: A soldier can still act like a human being."

X With Tim X

Awkward silences. I hated awkward silences, like the one in this office. It had been the most secluded place we could find. This had been were the Base Commander sat on his ass and shuffled papers from side to side.

Sarah was simply standing in a corner of the room silently, apparently deep in though. I thought she should speak first, so I just busied myself by sitting in the big chair and studying a nearby globe. 13 countries were on this planet. And I bet all of them were destroyed.

I set the globe down and started rummaging through the desk I was sitting at. Most of the drawers only had papers in them.

"Jackpot." My eyes lit up when I saw a bottle in the bottom shelf. I pulled out the bottle of scotch. I nearly dropped it when I sat back up though; mainly due to the fact Sarah had somehow closed the gap and was staring right at me from maybe 2 inches away. Musing quietly to herself, she circled once around the chair. I sat that there in curious silence.

"Hmm…" She did a complete lap around the desk, looking at me the entire time. When she came back around the table she cocked her head to the side.

"Something up?" I asked.

"Nah, just thinking." She leaned on the table. "It amazes me how different you are now. I still remember how you looked back at the orphanage." I shifted and turned my gaze. "You were a lot thinner, and shyer. Your hair was more dirty blondish too." She flicked a strand of my hair that had grown in the past few weeks.

"Yeah, time changes a lot of things." I agreed.

"Do you remember how I looked back then?" She inquired. I scratched my head in thought. This question was like the question 'when's our anniversary?': wrong answers can result in a cold shoulder.

"You were about 2 inches shorter then I was…You were a lot more social…You were clingy as hell, and I'm pretty sure you were just a little more chubby." Her foot found my shin under the desk, although just lightly. "I remember though." I pointed out.

"Fair enough." She shrugged. She was quiet for another moment. "You know, thinking back on it, I'm still baffled." She crossed her arms. "You never made a whole lot of sense back then."

"In what way?" I put my hands behind my head.

"Simply by the fact you didn't shun me." She sat of the desk. "You didn't mock me like the other kids did when I tried to socialize. You also didn't even talk for the first two days. But at the same time you let me talk to you." I scratched my head and tried to fight off a frown.

"I had my reasons." I said simply. "Why would I mock you anyway?"

"I was wearing a diaper the first year I was at the orphanage." She raised an eyebrow. "I was seven." I coughed, my face feeling just a little bit heated.

"Err…I really never noticed that until you had actually told me. Why would I make fun of a medical condition anyway?" The statement was the truth and I don't care if you don't believe me. I never actually noticed. "I have a question for you though." Manners forgotten, I was trying to steer things is a less awkward direction. "Why did you choose to bug me? Especially when I didn't even respond to any of your questions at first?"

"Because," She said. "Some of the counselors pointed you out to me. And it was actually nice to not have someone laugh at me. And don't change the subject!" She added. Guess I wasn't getting out of this. "I saw some of the other kids try to talk to you, and you ignored them. But you talked to me just fine. Why?" She asked.

"Well…uh…" What was I suppose to say here? Hell, I didn't even know?

"Did you have a crush on the new girl?" She teased.

"No- Wait- uh…" I shook my head. "I guess it was because you were different from the others. More…mature?" Was that the right word? "Ow." She flicked my ear, a slight grin of amusement on her face. "I meant less bitchy."

"That's another thing that bugged me: you were 8 years old, yet you acted like you were 16 sometimes."

"Yeah, well, I grew up young. Like a lot of other kids in that fucking hellhole, I never had a childhood." I scratched my neck again and tapped the desk. This was going a bit too slow for my liking. Hopefully, I could get her to cut to the chase. "You asked me here for a reason right? Scotch?" I pushed the bottle forward.

"No." She turned it down. "Alcohol goes right through me." Coughing slightly, I uncorked the bottle and poured myself a shot. "What do you think caused my problem?" She sprung the question randomly. The scotch only burned my throat more as I tried not to spit it back up.

"I don't know…Birth defect? I never thought about it too much."

"And yet you still helped me along when I needed it. Did I really just stick out that much to you?"

"I'm not sure. Human nature to help the weak?" I stood up to stretch. "Hell woman, I still don't understand half the things I say or do."

"I'll be 30 soon. We are pretty reckless for our age aren't we?"

"We've always been reckless, and you know it." I replied. She pulled up her sleeve, revealing a few light scars gained through the years.

"Hmm…" She shrugged. "Anyway, it isn't a birth defect." She sat down on the edge of the desk. "My muscles down there got really damaged when I was little. And they just couldn't repair themselves. That's why I have to pee so often; my bladder muscle is fucked up." I scratched my chin at this revelation. The explanation was simple enough, but one question was obviously in my mine. "It's still sore down there some times." She went on. My mind suddenly clicked to something else entirely.

"Wait." I stood up. "All those years we were together…" I looked at her uncertainly. Our relationship was very physical. Had been especially in our younger years, before we enlisted.

"No." She set a hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down. "It never hurt. Especially when you were around." I exhaled and placed both my hands flat on the desk.

"I mean…had me thinking there…was guilty." I muttered sheepishly. "I can't believe you never actually said anything." I blurted anything out.

"Complaining wouldn't have got rid of injury." She said. "Besides, you told me that ignoring an injury stops the pain. And you were right, it always helped me."

"Shit." I muttered. "I said that when I was 10 and a baseball broke my jaw."

"But it worked." She leaned over the desk. "I followed a lot of things you said and did and it really helped me a lot through life." She smiled. My face was getting redder.

"I didn't do a whole lot." I said modestly. "Later on you looked out for yourself just fine. I helped you make it through a few rough years and you're the reason I haven't got myself killed yet. We look out for each other, that's how its always been." I grinned. "Course, I did most the work in the beginning." She reached across the table and playfully shoved me.

"Yeah, and I've always had to do the work in bed." She shot back. I laughed.

"Fair trade if you ask me. Haha…eh…" I paused for a moment. "So...Uhh…what…what happened that caused so much damage? Isn't that what you wanted to tell me?" I asked. The smile from her face vanished, replaced instead by a look of utter repulse. It turned into a expression of disinterest and she shrugged again.

"Yeah." She sounded completely calm. "You saw me talking to that girl earlier, the one that got attacked, I saw you looking. Do you know why I was talking to her?" She asked.

"No." Admitted. "Confused the fuck out of the other kids, because they couldn't get her to speak to any of them."

"She was just scared."

"Yeah, and you're scary yourself." I reminded her. "How'd you do it?"

"It wasn't that hard." She told me. "Her and me could relate pretty well. After all-" She said as I picked up the scotch bottle again. "I got raped too. I know exactly what she felt." The bottle broke to a million pieces on the carpet. I failed to notice this however, since I was staring at Sarah.

I honestly don't remember that moment really well, as my asshole of a brain decided to quit working, leaving me just gawking at her like a complete idiot. Finally, it kicked back to life.

"Wait." The word didn't actually leave my mouth the first time. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait a fucking minute!" I stood up. My mind still wasn't working straight. For one, I didn't even know what I was feeling! "Rape? When? I've known you nearly my entire life! We never left each others sides!"

"Wow, so you actually never guessed." She sounded calmly surprised, which only fucked with my mind more. "As many signs as there were…"

"That's just it." I blurted out. "You never showed any signs! You're way too calm about this!" I paused when I realized it sounded like I was accusing her. I shook my head. What the fuck was wrong with me? "You were raped?" I asked.

"Yeah." She said like it was the most obvious question in the world. "What's got you so worked up?"

"I never knew! You never led on! There weren't any signs! There were other girls in the orphanage that had been raped, but they acted way different then you! They were depressed, anti-social, an 11 year old even hung herself with a jump rope!" I shuddered inwardly when that particular memory came back to mind. It had happened, it had been horrifying, even if I didn't show it. It was one of the factors that caused me to hate the world. "Your acting calm about the whole damn thing." I repeated.

"I was crying a few days ago when Kim mentioned kids, remember?"

"Well, I guess you have me there."

"I've had a lot of time to dwell on the matter." She said. "Somehow, the actual event doesn't bother me so much. It's just the effects." She rested her hand on her stomach. "I've actually cried a lot when I think about having kids." The calm had vanished, replaced a bit more by pain. The sight made me sad, but I was only really capable of expressing sadness through anger or violence.

"Who?" I demanded. "Who's the sick fuck who did it?" I stood up, drawing my pistol as I did. "If he's still alive, I'll hunt his ass down across this fucking planet and rip his goddamn head off!"

"Don't worry it." She said. "He's been dead a long time." Somehow, the answer didn't satisfy me. I wanted this fucker to know just how much pain he caused.

"Who was it?" I asked, reluctant quelling my anger and sitting back down.

"My dad." She said simply. "He use to rape me when I was little." I grimaced.

"Before you came to the orphanage? When you were that little?" She nodded. I sat back like I'd been shot. The idea was a bit hard for me to comprehend. She had seemed so happy and innocent back then.

"Yeah, it had been going on for as long I could remember. I never went to school like other kids; he never sent me. I was always at home. I wasn't really a slave; I was actually a bit overfed when I think about it." She said. "I think he only ever saw me as a toy for when he was board."

"And there was absolutely no one around to help you?" I asked. How could things be that fucked up?

"I have absolutely no idea who my mom was or why I grew up with my dad." She said. "I never went outside either."

"And you were just fine with being a toy?" I was shock.

"Innocence is a child's curse." She told me. "It was painful when…it… happened, but for the most part, I wasn't miserable. Hell, I had snacks and TV all the time. And toys. I was usually happy."

"That sounds like a cow being raised for slaughter!" I practically yelled.

"Yeah, it does." She still sounded calm. Calm, she was calm because she was strong, stronger then I would've ever imagined. "The whole thing really bothered me when I got older though." She admitted. "I actually felt like a piece of meat."

"How did you survive? I couldn't have possibly helped you that much…Could I?" I frowned. Had I really been that important?

"I don't remember much of the details. I got taken away when I was still pretty little. The damage had been done by then though." She added bitterly. I stood up. I was not just going to sit here! I moved over to her and wrapped her arms around her waist. She leaned back against me and sighed. "Comforting." She murmured.

"You know, you don't have to talk if you don't want to." I pointed out. I realized the effort was a bit void; if she wanted to say something, she said it.

"Nah. Feels…nice talking. I regret not saying it earlier."

"So why didn't you?" I asked.

"Didn't think it was important." She yawned. "And when I by the time I started thinking about it more, I realized it wouldn't do me any good or bad. I've just been thinking during what's happened in the past few days, and I just thought I should be a little bit more open with you. I think I'll tell Kim a little bit about it too; she's been a great help to me as well."

"How is that?" I asked.

"She's just a bit naïve on the world. She's needs someone to show her how to survive, how to be stronger."

"Like a mother raising a child?" I guessed. Suddenly her tolerance for the sometimes-annoying blond made sense in my mind.

"It isn't the actually thing, but it's a nice feeling." She told me. "Though I still do wonder sometimes." I stroked her hair. Somewhere outside the window I heard the sound of what might've been a heavy vehicle, reminding me there was till a world around us. This was private, couldn't it go away for one fucking second?

"So how'd you come to the orphanage?" I asked.

"He was a crook. Who knows how many police departments or other criminals were after him? Cops broke down the door one day, saw him fucking me on the table, and shot him dead in disgust. I heard they got an award for it."

"And then shipped you off to the orphanage?"

"Hospital." She corrected. "I was pretty messed up by then. Plus they just didn't seem to understand why I was upset about leaving. I was little; I didn't realize the extent of the situation. They just told me I would be given a second chance and sent me there."

"And then you met me?" I guessed.

"Not quite. Like I said, I tried to be friends with the other kids. They all just thought I was weird, just because I was happy and had to wear a diaper."

"Pricks." I muttered.

"The staff felt pity for me, they paid especially close attention. When none of the other kids wanted to talk to me, they pointed to you. Said you had trouble making friends and that you had family problems too and that we'd understand each other."

"Wait." I interrupted. "Did they tell you what happened to me?" I demanded. If she did, I was going to be so royally pissed. I'd never mentioned it for a reason.

"No, just that you trouble with your parents." She said. "They really tried to encourage us to be friends."

"Yeah." I agreed. "One of the ladies even bought us both bathing suits so we could take baths together."

"And remember how they use to let us sleep in the same bed when I had bad dreams?" She smiled. "I still remember how uncomfortable you were about that."

"Yeah, well, little kids aren't normally that close. That's why it was so fucked up when you think about it. But I guess they were good memories."

"I can't believe you just admitted you thought the orphanage was fun." She poked me in the head.

"I guess it wasn't all that bad." I admitted. "I just can't believe it. All these years, and I never knew. Well, I got new respect for you!" I told her. "You are without a doubt the strongest person I've ever and will ever know" She closed her eyes and smiled. "Makes me think." I confessed. "I always thought MY relationship with my folks was bad, but it's weak compared to that." She slowly removed herself from my grasp and stretched.

"Are you going to share?" She raised an eyebrow.

"If you can talk about that, I don't see why I can't talk about my past."

"So why do like to hide yours?" She asked. I crossed my arms and thought about it. In my refusal to recall the events, I'd never actually labeled my actions. Though the answer I came to turned out to be far from anything I'd want to admit.

"…I guess fear." I admitted. My eyes darted to the office door. Quietly, I peeked out to make sure no one was listening in.

"Fear? You've never been scared of anything." Now it was her turn to be confused.

"Yeah, well, I've always been worried about people close to me being hurt, alright?" A figurative light bulb lit up over Sarah's head.

"So that's why you never like to admit you care about other people!" She realized.

"That, and most people are stupid." I growled.

"But if you don't admit you're close to them, the loss doesn't hurt as much, right?" She pressed.

"I call it a survival technique. The whole damn military encourages it so soldiers aren't caught up in their grief and keep fighting."

"What gave you that the idea though?" She asked.

"It's a distorted version of something my cousin told me."  
>The mere mention made me cringe. "'Don't be sad, it never helps'. Somehow I guess I came to the fucked up conclusion of trying not to feel anything."<p>

"What happened to him?" She asked.

"Well…" I glanced towards the door again. "I live with both my mom and dad up till I was about seven. I was more like a cat. When they took a moment, they both were kind of nice. I guess." I snorted the last part.

"Were they?"

"It seemed like a private war to get me to choose favorites. My parents fucking hated each other." I told her. "Every single fucking day they were yelling and throwing things at each other. One day all three TVs in the house got tossed out the window."

"So that's why you never were afraid of yelling or violence." She commented.

"Yep. I use to sit at the table in the kitchen and eat cereal every morning why they yelled at each other. One time one of them stabbed a knife into the table and nearly took my hand off. I knew every swear word in the dictionary by the time I was seven."

"And you said I acted calm. They don't sound like the type of helping or caring people, how'd you even survive?" She asked.

"I was self-sufficient. I took care of my own goddamn self." I beat my fist on my chest.

"And you were okay with that?"

"I didn't know any other type of lifestyle. It's a lot less worse then what you put up with."

"Fair enough. Continue." She sat down in the chair.

"I changed homes sometime after I turned 8." I went on. Or had it been before? I didn't remember. "At school, there was this teacher, real annoying type, wanted us to talk about home and all that. Obviously, she saw something wrong with me."

"And she called child services?" Sarah guessed.

"Close." I waved a finger. "She actually went over to our house to try and talk to my parents about my 'unusual' behavior. Bitch found me sitting at the table eating crackers while my parents were hurling things at each other. She grabbed me and took me out of there. Thing is, they didn't even realize I'd left."

"Did you want to leave?" Sarah asked me. I shrugged.

"Not sure. I never really bonded that well with my parents. Though I didn't understand why my teacher was freaking out. It was all normal to me."

"You don't seem all that upset about it, so how come you never wanted to talk about it?"

"Because of people." I spat. "I actually did tell some of the adults at the orphanage. They started fussing, calling me a 'broken child', tried all this talking and caring garbage. Stuff was fucking stupid. The whole later ordeal just made me hate people. I just don't like remembering it because it makes me hate people even more. Anyway, where was I?"

"Your teacher took you away." She reminded me.

"Oh right." I remembered. "Yeah, dumb broad looked up my emergency contact information and dropped me off at my aunt and uncles house, my mom's sister. They were okay people I guess, never had much contact with them."

"And they just let you stay?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, my aunt was an okay woman. My cousin was the main reason I actually liked the place. He was probably the only person besides you I've gotten close to. They were fun times…"

"You're smiling." Sarah pointed out. She grinned herself.

"Those were good times, closest I ever got to a normal childhood, even if I didn't really adapt to it as well. My cousin freaked out when he watched me do all this stuff adults normally did."

"What happened to him?" Sarah asked. She stood up. I waved her off.

"Eh, I'm not going to cry or anything. I haven't cried sine I was a kid." She simply leaned against the desk. "Yeah, the thing with their family, they had another kid. Some jackass teenager who tried acting tough, like a criminal. Prick stole car radios and tried acting like he was a mafia hit man or something. And my aunt and uncle _hated _him." I put emphasis on the word. "They call him stupid and a whole lot of other stuff, and he'd get pissed. Reminded me of home, although they tried to make sure we didn't hear it."

"Your aunt and uncle actually liked you, didn't they?" I nodded. "Did you like them?" She asked.

"My human bonding skills weren't always the best. But looking back, yeah, I guess." I looked up to see her frowning at me. "What?"

"Nothing. It just amazes me a child could act like that." She sat back down. "And this all honesty registered normal with you?" She asked.

"You remember that weird kid?" I tried to find an example. "His parents wanted a girl, so they always treated him like one, and he actually became convinced he was a girl? A kid's mind is easy to manipulate."

"I guess it ain't as bad as some others. It's disturbing how messed up some kids were." She shrugged in defeat.

"Yeah, at least I could deal with society." I nodded. "Anyway, their stupid prick of a son came over one night, got into another argument, got all pissed off and decided to fire a few bullets into the ceiling. My cousin and me shared a room on the second floor." I added.

"You saw your cousin get killed?" She nearly fell back in the chair.

"Not really." I answered. "I was asleep when it happened."

"But did you know what happened? Did it bother you?" She eyed me critically.

"I never really grasped the concept of death, surprisingly. I just woke up with a police officer carrying me out of the house. They just told me they were taking me somewhere. Truth be told, I don't know what happened to my aunt or uncle."

"Let me stop you there for a minute." She stood up and walked over to me, observing my expression down to the smallest detail.

"Problem?" I asked.

"That sounds a lot worse then what happened to me…you honestly never thought about it?"

"I tried to focus on other things: You, survival, my self-image, you…I just decided before then to ignore the occurrence."

"So you ran."

"I shielded myself." I corrected her. "It may make me sound like an ass, but ignoring it was what I thought best. Yeah, I missed my parent; I missed them all. But my cousin said being sad never helped. So I never was. I was a bit uneasy at first, that's why I never talked to you. But I finally found a path that suited me. I for one am content with how I handled things." I said proudly. I exhaled. Damn, saying all that actually felt good!

"My god." Sarah muttered, staring up at me with a look of amusement on her face. "We really are the most fucked up couple around."

"No, to the world we're fucked up." I yanked her up and pointed to the window. "But we are stronger, stronger then anyone ever could be. Name one bastard out there that could go through what we did and not break. Name one." I challenged. "You couldn't, you couldn't because there is not one person out there stronger then us. We are better then all of them, I don't care what you think." Sarah laughed and tried to escape my grip.

"Alright, alright." She squirmed. "Anything else you want to say?" She asked.

"No, I said all there is. Actually feels good." I commented.

"Yeah, it may not change a thing, but it does feel nice that someone else knows." She finally freed herself from my grip. "Nothing will change between us, right?" She pressed. "Don't suddenly go holding my hand everywhere because you feel pity."

"As long as you do the same, no problem." I patted her on the back.

"Deal." She shook my hand. "We should probably get going." She decided. "People will think we're doing something else if we stay much longer."

"The desk does look comfy though." I commented.

"You've fucked me on a desk before, it'd be boring."

"Fine, I'll think of something else" I laughed. "So what exactly did you tell the Lieutenant that made her let you go?" I asked as we left the office.

"I just told her something he said brought back a traumatic childhood experience. Simple as that." She said.

"Guess she isn't as much a bitch as she looks." I commented. How much will you let Kim know?" I had doubts (well placed if you ask me) about how well she could handle such information.

"Just that I was raped and I can't have kids. I won't mention anything about the orphanage and us. I still don't want anyone else to know about it; they'll think we're weird."

"Ah, fuck the world." I waved it off as we walked to the doors to go back outside. "I'm starting to reach the point where I don't give a damn. We've beaten everything it's thrown at us, and we'll beat anything else it throws at us."

X With James X

"That ain't going to work." Peter commented as we watched the soldier lock the mass of chains in place.

"Don't be so negative. It'll work." Sam assured. I myself watched the process with reserve and eagerness. A detail I'd failed to notice earlier, another War Tank had been knocked out in combat. It wasn't destroyed, but it had been tipped on its side. It was only the crew that was dead. If we could get it upright, we could use it ourselves. So even though most of the Battalion was resting, we had volunteered to help, mostly out of fascination of the massive machine.

It was a lot bigger then I had originally though. Two people could actually crawl into one of the turrets and sleep. An engineer who had investigated the interior said the guns and engine were like something you'd find on a battleship.

"Thing must be an industrial nightmare." Sgt. Anderson commented. All the 'senior' officers and soldiers were taking a particular interest in this personification of battlefield weaponry enhancement.

All together, there were nine Abrams assembled for the task. Tightly woven masses of chains were attached to the back of each. The theory was that being woven would mean they couldn't break.

"Stand back." Sgt. Anson ordered, waving the recruits and us back. The powerful engines roared to life on the tanks. They all simultaneously moved forward. Everyone watched in sheer anticipation as slack on the chains tightened. Most of us had expected the War Tank to flip right up. But it didn't even budge. Undaunted, the Abrams increased power. Smoke bellowed was the exhaust pipes as the powerful machines pulled.

"Huh." Peter seemed surprised. "Look." He pointed to the War Tank. It was working! The side of the tank had lifted off the ground maybe 5 inches. The Abrams kept pulling, their treads moving so slowly it was almost impossible to tell. There was a noticeable groan from the chains. The metal was probably stretching.

The War Tank leaned up further. Everyone was sweating in anticipation. Just a little more and the weight would cause it to flip over. Then we heard it: A snap, the clear sound of a chain breaking. Then another, and another, rapidly like machine gun fire.

"Oh shit." Sam dropped to the ground. We all ducked. The next sound was like a car being crushed. There was a large crash and much profanity somewhere to the side. Small fragments of dirt rained down on us. The Abrams killed their engines and the War Tank fell back down with a heavy thud. We all dared raise our head.

The Abrams sat there in defeat, and many of the chains lay broken and useless. One mass had been sent flying like a slingshot. It had barely missed sawing a group of soldiers in half. The mass in question was now laying somewhere over the horizon.

I wiped the sweat off my pale forehead and stood up. My legs shook slightly. Several people were still swearing.

"Fuck it, let's get out of here." Sgt. Anderson ordered.

"But the tank." A recruit interjected. "We almost had it."

"If we do get it back up, we'll probably kill someone in the process." Sgt. Anderson shook his head. "It ain't worth it. All in all, it's just a massive hunk of metal."

XX Author's Note XX

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, though I'm happy I can get back to following the game. All those still reading are probably thinking: What the flying *%^# man? Well, allow me explain my reasoning.

It goes back to when this story was on the drawing board. I wanted to try a anti-hero type deal, get away from clichés. I wanted this story to be unique from everything else.. When I began the rewrite, I wanted to try and capture a more tragic, mature, and sad atmosphere more associated with the game. And like some mad scientist, I got a bit carried away. Or at least I think I got carried away. Where did I get the idea? Well, a girl I once knew in Ohio had the same exact thing happen and had the same problems, so it's like a tribute. The rest of the influence came from horrifying stories I've seen on the news. I thought the cold and uncaring attitude for human nature and feelings fit well with the story.


	24. Chapter 23

One- one thousand views? Wow! I am honored, truly and completely honored. I'm glad to see people obviously have an interest in my work. I assure you all I will continue to write till this is finished.

Warning: Slight awkward content ahead. Though on a much smaller scale then last time, but at least this will be the last of it for many chapters.

X With Tim X

For some reason, things just felt different when I woke up. I couldn't quite place it though. I frowned, trying to figure it out. Nothing. I sighed and tried to go back to sleep, only to find the same warm comfort from earlier was gone. Great.

I sat up and rubbed my arms. Why the hell did it always have to be so cold? I stopped when I realized the tent was missing an occupant. Kim was snoozing on the ground, shifting slightly and making a squeaking noise every few seconds, but Sarah's cot was empty.

_Probably those morning pains she mentioned._ I thought and got up to stretch. Whole Battalion was moving out soon, with that shelter just a day away, so I might as well get up. I stepped over the troubled blond and stepped outside, feeling the temperature drop immediately. Jeez.

With nothing else to do, I start walking. Might as well warm up. There were some people up already. I swore that there was someone up at every hour of the day in this place.

"Morning." A familiar voice greeted me.

"I was wondering where you were." I said as Sarah kept pace beside me.

"Same old morning routine." She sighed.

"How the hell do you put up with that every morning?" I whispered, conscious of the fact we were in the middle of a camp.

"How do you deal with not knowing what happened to your only family?" She shot back, just a bit edgy. "Sorry." She said. "I'm just not that use to talking about it."

"Eh, I get where you're coming from. And like I said, there wasn't really a bond there. The only person I actually got close to is dead. I consider that closure enough to move on."

"Must be hell." She commented.

"I don't think about it much. Out of sight, out of mind. Or whatever the saying is. Ignorance can be just as helpful." I said.

"Mind helping me later?" She changed the subject.

"Sure." I stopped. "What?"

"I'm going to tell Kim later, get it over with. Mind coming with me?"

"You sure that's really a good idea?" I asked. The superior feeling from yesterday had given way to practical caution. "Sure, kids nice and all, but I think she's too naïve to take in something like that. She'll start treating YOU like a scared kid or something."

"Don't worry about." Sarah shrugged. "Trust me, I spend a lot of time with her. She's a lot more mature then you'd think. Will you just come along? It'll be comforting."

"Shit, can't really say no to you. I guess." I feigned defeat. "She's still scared of me anyway." Sarah laughed.

"After this, she'll think you're a bit softy." I scowled.

X With James X

"Come on, come on! Hurry up now!" Sgt. Anderson called. The recruits struggled under the weight of the dead tree. Even together they had trouble lifting the hollowed mass. The training would only get more intense. The battle had highlighted flaws and weaknesses in our unit.

_"They still did do pretty decent considering the odds. Or had the Marines been the reason for our victory?"_ They had survived, though, which was a good sign regardless. They were strong mentally as well.

I, personally, was more surprised how none of them resigned. They were young, and witnessing death like that surely must've left an impact. But it didn't make them fold; Quite the opposite really. They seemed more determined then ever to get stronger. It was a powerful idea.

"You know what?" Sam said from where he sat sharpening his combat knife. "They're actually some pretty good kids."

"Better then you anyway." Peter agreed. Sam ignored the taunt.

"So guys." Sam sheathed his knife and stretched. "That shelter's right around the corner, isn't it?"

"Assuming it exists." Peter shrugged.

"They said it's there, so it damn well better be." Sam muttered.

"Never assume anything as factual." Sgt. Anson said from behind us, causing us to flinch. "Believe only half of what you hear." He walked over to where Sgt. Anderson was still 'encouraging' the recruits and new soldiers.

"You think those bastard Lazurians are still out there?" Sam changed the subject.

"They're probably out helping their own people." I guessed. _"They aren't that different from us. They care about their citizens too." _After what I had happened, I doubted that there were any large military forces capable of mobilizing. "If there are any Lazurian units out there, they're probably small ones, like us."

"Cause this many people classifies as small?" Sam said sarcastically. "They better not show up. I'll kill them with my bare hands if they do."

"You have an obsession with killing Lazurians." I commented.

"They deserve it." Sam said simply. "They're the murderous bad guys." He brought his knife out and started sharpening it again. His eyes seemed to be narrowed at nothing in particular. Peter watched the spectacle in interest. I glanced at him questioningly and he came over.

"I think his obsession goes beyond xenophobia. Maybe influenced by a outside occurrence." He whispered.

"Could be anything, he doesn't talk about his home a whole lot." I whispered back. Peter shrugged.

"Everyone has a driving force, something that pushes them on or gives them the strength to kill." He said. "I guess he has his own."

"He might just take that propaganda too seriously. But I still remember what we learned in training: to much emotion can lead to recklessness-."

"Which could lead to death." Peter finished. No one else needed to die.

X With Tim X

Kim glanced shyly up and shifted her back against the sink. The slight color on her face the only thing betraying her.

"Something wrong?" Sarah asked from where she sat.

"No." Kim shook her head. "I'm just surprised how open you two are with each other."

"You haven't the slightest idea kid." I responded.

"We've always been close, ever since we were kids." Sarah added. She tore off some toilet paper. "It just shows how comfortable we are with each other." She flushed and stood up. "I really need to stop drinking so much water." She muttered as she pulled her pants up.

"So…you guys wanted to tell me something?" Kim looked back and forth at us.

"I'm just here as scenery. Sarah's the one who wanted to talk." I turned her focus the other direction. Kim looked at her with curious eyes. I found the sight surprising. Here you had a little blond who was sweet but had little expertise on the outside world and had been spoiled most her life, next to this slightly muscular brunette who had scars on the inside and out and was tougher then some men could ever be. They were almost complete opposites! Didn't opposites attract though? Maybe I shouldn't have slept through science class.

"Describe me." Sarah challenged. "Describe any traits you can think of." Kim thought about this for a moment.

"Well…" She started. "You're really strong for a girl, you don't even act like a girl sometimes. You don't care what other people think about you. You don't mind lack of privacy…Umm…You is really nice to me. You're just like a big sister!"

_"Try caring mother."_ I turned my head.

"Good…good…what about bathroom breaks?" I guess Sarah was being a bit more direct this time. Kim blushed and glanced at me. "Don't worry, I've talked to him about it too."

"Well…you do seem to have to 'go' a lot." She admitted, her head hung down in embarrassment.

"Right." Sarah nodded. "Do you know why?" Kim thought about it.

"Isn't it natural for old people?" She asked. I spun around and reared my head down, trying my absolute best not to burst out in laughter. I wonder if Kim actually knew how old we were. Stress was a pretty potent thing. I was 30 and I looked nearly 40. Sarah was 29 and she could almost pass for 40 too. Sarah didn't seem to take insult, though latter I imagined she'd be all huffy about it.

"No, my muscles down there are just damaged because of something that happened when I was little." Sarah launched into the whole story with the same details as when she told me. The only difference was that she said we were friends after she moved in with her grandmother. Kim just sat there and took the whole thing in with silence, one of the most shocked faces you could imagine plastered on her face. "I can never have kids either, no matter how much I wish." Sarah finished. Kim stood there for a moment.

She put her hands over her mouth unable to say anything. _'And here comes the waterworks."_

"Oh my god…" She said slowly. Next thing I knew, she already had Sarah wrapped in a hug. "That's horrible!" She exclaimed. She rested her head on Sarah's shoulder. "I can't believe someone could do something that horrible!"

_"Of course not. I'm surprised you even know the definition of the word 'rape'." _I clicked my tongue. It wasn't healthy for someone to be sheltered from the world. It lowered their chances for survival. I stiffened as something suddenly clung onto me. I didn't even see her run over till it was too late.

"And you still helped her through all that? It's so selfless!" Kim gushed. I put my hands up awkwardly. Sarah watched the scene in amusement. "You're not such a mean person after all!" I cast a desperate look over to Sarah.

'Get her off me' I mouthed. Sarah grinned and shook her head. Kim finally stopped hugging me and stepped back.

"I never could've imagined…you both kept it hidden so well!"

_"Yeah, Sarah sure did." _

"It's such a shame though," Kim went on. "That you two will never be able to have kids. I bet it really hurts." I mentally shook my head. Kid still didn't know the full story. And as long as I was around, she never would. She gasped and covered her mouth. "What I said the other day-I'm so sorry!" She hugged Sarah again. "If I'd have known-

"Don't." Sarah gently pushed the younger girl away. "You didn't know."

"I still feel guilty." Kim hung her head down in embarrassment. "But don't worry! From now on, I'll-mph." Sarah had placed her hand over Kim's mouth.

"Kim, listen to me very carefully." Sarah said slowly. "Now, I've already told Tim this-" The blond's eyes darted to me for a brief second before going back to Sarah. "-I don't need any help or sympathy. Understand?" Kim didn't respond. "Understand?" Sarah repeated a bit more forcefully. Kim nodded and tried to speak under the gloved hand covering her mouth. "I am strong, and I can take care of my self. If I ever need anything, I'll ask. Got it?" Kim nodded again, a bit unset by the request.

"Trust me." I spoke up from the sidelines. "She'll get real pissed if you even mention either the event or the problem."

"Listen to him." Sarah advised. "I've kicked him enough times so that he knows it. And understand: this is just between us, got it?" The last part came out slightly threatening. "If I ever find out you told someone, I will personally see to it that you suffer." There was absolutely no friendliness this time. I honestly expected the girl to piss her pants. "Do we have a agreement?" She asked. Kim nodded quickly. "Good." Sarah resumed her friendly tone. She reached out and hugged Kim. "Thank you for listening." Sarah left in a slight hurry, probably from the embarrassment of the whole situation. This left a awkward silence. Kim laughed nervously.

"You really do care about her don't you?" She asked.

"Kid, you don't even know the half of it." I replied. I moved towards the door. "Don't fuck up, or you'll have ME to answer to." I warned. "You have absolutely no idea how much Sarah trusts you." Kim nodded determinedly.

"I won't." She assured.

"Well fucking better." I muttered. All right, the drama was over, now hopefully we could get back to our jobs.

X With James, two hours later X

"Is this safe?" Rockefeller asked as the truck carrying the helicopter bounced along the road. Combat engineers had blown a few new holes inland and drained the river to allow the battalion to cross. We were now sitting in the back of a helicopter, which was on the back of a truck, which was maneuvering in a convoy through narrow mountain paths. This was almost as dangerous as the battlefield.

"Far from it actually." Sgt. Anderson glanced out the back. "But we've been in worse, right Riley?" Sgt. Anson nodded. "Shoot, we flew just a few feat off the surface of a river on our journey once. I remember a helicopter getting sucked in by a wave. Whole thing just disappeared." He recalled. "Other then that, the brigade carried out that operation perfectly." He glanced around the helicopter. "We're far from a brigade though." He commented. A brigade? We weren't even a company (100-200 men typically), we were barely a platoon (45-120 men). There was a second helicopter assigned to us that sat unused mostly. There just wasn't enough recruiting material. The quality of our current numbers was still fairly poor as well. I was reminded yet again of the weight of our task.

"We'll get there someday." Collins spoke up. "It'll just take time." Time wasn't plentiful though.

_"So long as no one gets hurt along the way."_

"Maybe." Sgt. Anderson replied. "Just maybe…" A silence followed for several minutes as the truck crawled up the rocky expanses. The ramp was up, so we could only see the rocky landscape from the narrow windows.

"You're a medic, right?" All focus turned to the sound of a female voice near the front of the helicopter. One of the recruits, a girl of about 17 if I had to guess, was leaning over her friend to look at the Red Cross patch resting on Peter's shoulder.

"That's right." He nodded. "This patch is the symbol of a field medic." I watched the scene with interest. Sgt. Anson also did so with intent. This was a good sign. A group of soldiers with our role had to versatile. We had to have different people trained for different roles. Demolitions and the other roles were important, but a medic was very valuable.

"But I thought medics didn't fight?" She asked.

_"She's really curious. That's a good sign."_

"I'm a field medic. The nature of our job requires me to cycle between two roles." Peter answered. "It means helping the injured while under fire in most cases. A medic is at just as much risk as any other soldier." She looked curious.

"How long does it take to train as a medic?" She was practically sitting on top of her friend now. The recruit wisely traded seats with her.

"Took me a full year to complete my training. If you're thinking about it, think again." Peter said bluntly. "A medic is one of the most difficult jobs in the military. The strain on the mind and emotions can make a lot of people crack."

"He's right." Sgt. Anson agreed. "Very few can be medics."

"You got to have a stomach of solid steel." I added. I'd done share of helping minor injuries and wounds. An uneasy gut feeling always accompanied me.

"A lot of people threw up in training." Peter confirmed. The girl looked hesitant for a moment, but still asked.

"Can you train me to be a medic?" The entire helicopter leaned in to hear.

"Sure, but it won't be easy." Peter warned. I saw Sgt. Anderson visibly relax. Sgt. Anson quietly turned his head away.

"I'll try. My name's Helen by the way." She extended her hand.

"Corporal Coleman." Peter shook it. "We can start when we stop again." She nodded. I did a mental fist pump.

"_Good luck kid, you'll need it." _Things were looking up again. Now if only we could find more recruits…

X With Tim X

"The whole wing was dead?" One of the kids asked in shock. Stone was filling them in on the adventure up to this point. Kim wasn't in the truck; she was somewhere else probably. The back of this truck was fucking crowded anyway, so no one missed her. The problem was eased slightly by Sarah sleeping in my lap, but it didn't help much. The bombers had been left back at the base; since there was no way in hell they could be moved with us. Their crews though, were still with us. At the end of the row sat that brat (I think his name was Tracy, a real dumb name) and that girl Kim was terrified (I was pretty sure Kim mentioned in passing her name was Clarissa); both of them were ignoring us. The others had warmed up though. As long as they didn't annoy me, I didn't really care.

"Correct." Stone nodded. "Of the 67 aircraft in the Wing, only about 13 survived."

"And you fought Lazuria?" Another girl asked. Again, Stone nodded.

"We engaged several aircraft from a Expeditionary force and then several ships from a naval landing force." I tuned out as Stone went into a full recount of that battle. I only pricked my ears up at one line. "One of our Sky Raider pilots managed to land a hit on a enemy ship." Sky Raider? Eddie was the only one who flew one of those. He actually nailed a ship?

_"Not bad."_ Eh, but he was still a pussy, and one that certainly was going to die any minute now. The truck slowed to a stop, causing the conversation to cut short.

"What the fuck is going on up there?" I called.

"Convoy's stalled." The driver called back from the cab. Great, stuck. We sat impatiently for a few moments before he spoke again. "Might as well stretch your legs a bit, we'll be here for a while." The others started piling out. I sighed a cautiously tapped Sarah on the thigh. She shifted but didn't wake up. I poked her again.

"5 more minutes dear." She muttered sleepily. I snorted in laughter.

"Well _honey_, the convoy is stalled, time for a break." She yawned and finally opened her eyes.

"Damn, I was just getting comfortable." She stretched and got up. We both jumped out the back. The landscape was a uneasy and rocky. To our right, the ground sloped down, though not so that it was a straight drop. On the other side, the group rose steeply. The road wasn't all that wide either. The tanks sitting a few spots down barely had any maneuvering room.

"Idiots better not lose our helicopter." I muttered. There wasn't a whole lot of room to move, so most people just milled around their vehicles. I sat down on the sloped part of the ground, staring down at the ravine. It was a long way down. _"Rough place to live."_

"Scenery's nice, don't you think?" Sarah sat down beside me. "Nice place to live?" I head sagged. Oh right, if we reached this shelter, we would be settling down.

"I guess." I shrugged. "I suppose rock climbing could be exciting. I wouldn't be able to sit around all day, and I doubt these guys do daily live fire practices."

"We'll figure something out." Sarah assured. She leaned against my shoulder. The moment was peaceful. Unfortunately, it didn't last very long. Sniper rifles are pretty loud, which is why I jumped and nearly rolled down the hill.

"What the hell?" I stood up. The shot was still echoing faintly throughout the landscape. A bit of walking revealed the source. A sniper was leaning over the side of a jeep, aiming intently up at the mountains.

"Lieutenant Story?" A soldier asked, carefully scooting closer to the man.

"I saw something up there." The sniper carefully scanned the hilltop. Everyone started moving back and behind the cover of the vehicles. A group of cautious soldiers climbed the steep rise to investigate. We both edged behind the truck. A few of the trainees were cowering there already. It seemed to be several minutes, but the group eventually reappeared over the hill.

"It's clear!" One of them called. The air seemed to relax along with everyone else. The trainees started whispering excitedly. They would have had to pass survival training, but I doubted they could handle the real thing.

"Guys!" We both turned around to see Kim had edged her way over here. Her face was annoyingly bright, like a light bulb.

"Yes?" Stone answered.

"Eddie just woke up!" She squealed excitedly. The kid was up? Holy shit!

"He is completely awake?" Stone asked. Old man probably was just as surprised as we were. Kim nodded vigorously again.

"He was just talking to me. I had to explain where he was and all, but they say he'll live!" She clapped her hands together. Stone wordlessly moved past her, probably on his way to visit the kid. Kim looked hopefully at us. "Come visit!" She urged. "He'll be really happy to see you both!" I tried not to snort.

_"Kid will probably piss his pants if he sees us."_ He'd always been terrified of us, or anyone else in general.

"We'll pass." Sarah declined politely. "He needs rest since he just woke up." Kim looked crestfallen. "Why don't you go back? He'll be happier around people he knows." Kim looked up thoughtfully and nodded.

"Just come visit later." She was already walking off. "Okay?" She called back. We both waved half-heartedly.

"Well I'll be damned." Sarah rested her hands on her hips. "The little guy actually lived. Looked like a train wreck last I saw."

"I guess I owe him some credit." I admitted. He was the runt of the litter, and he'd been shot. Still he survived.

"Sympathy?" Sarah glanced at me playfully. I scoffed.

"Bullshit." I turned my head. "It's acknowledgement of strength."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Sarah shrugged. "He won't be able to walk, will he?" She changed the subject. I thought back. He would probably never be able to walk again.

"Nah, his legs are fucked beyond repair. Kid is going to need a nurse or something just to get around." I thought about that further. "Kim will probably do it."

"She cares about everyone." Sarah agreed. "No matter how they act to her. Selfless, but stupid." She finished.

"Boy's just another victim of fate." I steered back.

"Life is cruel." She agreed. "No point moping about it." The calls of soldiers were beginning to reach this part of the convoy.

"Road block is clear! We're moving again!" The driver waved his hand to gather everyone's attention. "Back in the truck, please!"

_"About time we got to see if this fucking shelter exists or not."_

X With James X

"Figures as much." Sgt. Anderson commented as the rest of us gawked in awe. It was very easy to see, dull silver against the rocky brown peaks of the mountains. The shelter was real. Our salvation, our only hope for continued survival. There it was, just a few miles over the horizon.

"Sweet." Sam commented, rubbing his hands together. There was a general wave of cheeriness moving through the assembled crowd. Soldiers and civilians alike rejoiced. This shelter was going to help humanity recover, to survive, and eventually return the world to how it once was.

I couldn't help but notice some uneasiness amongst part of the civilian population. They were awkwardly avoiding the crowds or looking at the shelter.

_"Why would they act nervous?"_ Shouldn't everyone be celebrating?

"What the hell are we doing standing around like this?" Someone called. "Let's get there already!" The idea was met with a cheer.

X In the mountains X

"They're entering the town now." The voice reported. The Beast simply grunted and response and set the radio receiver down. While The Beast had wanted a all out frontal assault on the 12th Battalion with the remaining shambles of his raiders, a more thoughtful, former Marine officer had sent out a recon team to get some Intel.

That officer's mangled corpse was lying at the bottom of a ravine now. But The Beast saw the usefulness of the situation and waited for a report while staring at the small amount of planes Caulder's men had salvaged. A bomber, a fighter, and two Sky Raiders were all that remained of the Raider's air power.

Dr. Caulder sat on rock nearby, jotting down various notes. Every so often, he glanced up at the massive ape or his 'troops'. Most interesting was the fact nearly 100 of them had deserted. By Caulder's own estimated, the 12th Battalion was 900 men strong, including some 44 tanks. By comparison, the beast had a mere 200 men, and 18 light tanks (deserters had taken the Abrams) and one War tank. Outnumbered, yet still willing to fight. Caulder was fascinated by the sheer stupidity of the idea.

"Sir." The recon teams voice came back, a slightly surprised tone now. "They're splitting up." The raiders all perked their ears up. Even a brute realized that a thinly spread enemy could be conquered with a strong force concentration. "They're leaving the civilians on the outskirts of the city." The voice was full of excitement now. "They're leaving a small vanguard, only about 8 tanks. The aircraft are grounded too!" The remaining raiders stood up, full with new vigor. The enemy was in a weak spot, they actually had a chance to win this time!

"Saddle up roaches!" The Beast yelled. "We got some killin' to do!"

X With James X

_"Amazing."_ I stared at the sight as we all dismounted from the helicopter. There was a whole city built here. I guess these people wanted at least some reminder of normal society, or maybe they saw this place as a new start to society?

"Least the civilians have somewhere to live if they get board." Sgt. Anderson commented. I got what he meant. That shelter probably wasn't meant for luxury; it probably closely resembled a bomb shelter. The civilians would probably feel more comfortable in this town.

"Is it really necessary to split up?" A recruit asked. Most of the Battalion was either heading to shelter or to secure the town. We couldn't be the only life left; someone else might have got to the shelter.

"Yes, yes it is." Sgt. Anson nodded. "Mass concentrations are easy targets."

"Who's left to attack us? We killed all of the raiders!" I shook my head at the recruit's naivety. They still had a ways to go. Murphy's military law: anything can happen.

X With Tim X

"They'll lead us through any war, yet they're prepared to let the world fend for itself if things get back. Politics." I shook my head. _"…Why am I talking to myself?" _Sarah, probably tired from the whole drama ordeal, was sleeping peacefully. I decided to give her some rest. Though this left me wandering around like a creepy loner. The only people around were civilians, or militiamen, whatever the fuck they wanted to call them. I paused.

_"I need to find more friends or a past time."_ The former thought struck a confused note. What the fuck kind of thinking was that? This whole 'feelings' ordeal was making me weak. Bleh. I shook my head. Still, I was bored out of my fucking mind. I took a seat on the nearest rock.

"What the fuck is wrong with this shit?" I turned around at the sound of a boot hitting metal. A man hopped around in pain. Three others, all of them wearing communications gear, were standing around a radar truck. One of them picked up a radio.

"Lieutenant? This is Eagle Eye, the radar seems to be glitching." He waited for a reply.

"What the hell is going on here?" I asked. One of them communication officers turned towards me.

"We're the radar for the Battalion, but the damn thing is acting up." He tapped one of the panels lightly. A tall Army Sergeant came over.

"Acting up? How?" He demanded. A couple of other soldiers came over.

"Don't worry!" The officer put his hands up to stop everyone. "It's fine, we'll get it working soon." Some of the soldiers reluctantly walked the other way. Some lingered for a bit, but soon left. I sighed and turned around. What was it my business?

"Think it's being jammed?" I froze as I heard them still talking.

"Doubt it." I thought I heard the officer tapping a few buttons. I felt my jaw twitch in annoyance.

"I hate surprises." I called back. "So help me god, if we get attacked again, my foot is going up your asses!" I warned.

"We got it." The officer sounded just a bit annoyed. "Fucking flyboys." He muttered. Muttering, I started walking again.

_ "Ok, what now?"_ I wondered. Something entered my field of vision. The medic tent they'd seemingly set up instantly….

_'Come visit soon, okay?'_ Why the fuck would I go visit that piss ant? We were completely fucking opposite…Well, he DID survive…And didn't I admit he was owned some credit.? I rubbed my chin. Plus, I suppose it was worth seeing how fucked up his legs were. Sarah would probably wonder too.

Eh, it wasn't like I had anything else to fucking do. I pushed into the tent. I glanced around, most the casualties were the grunts and leathernecks hurt yesterday. Still, the place was rather small, and it wasn't that hard to find him, mainly because I could see Kim's blond head bobbing up and down. Figures she'd be here.

"_Damn."_ I looked at his legs in surprise. They actually looked a lot less badly then last time. Hell, if I had to bet on it, he'd probably only been hit maybe 12 times. Could someone still walk like that? Kim squealed when she realized I was there.

"You came to visit!" Before I could open my mouth she'd already got behind me and started pushing. She stopped and twitched. "Excuse me, ladies room." She said sweetly and moved away. I snorted. She was lying; any fool could see it. Probably just wanted to give us two guys (or boy) a chance to talk. Which was just stupid, cause she knew damn well I'd criticize him. Shit, maybe Sarah was right: she did think I was soft.

"Unbelievable." I leaned over the end of the bed. He shrunk back.

"Sir?" He said uneasily. My eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

"Enough with the 'sir' bullshit. Christ." I muttered. The Air Force really had to put more emphasis on mental toughness. He squirmed awkwardly. "So they shot you, huh? They always shoot runners."

"I wasn't running!" He said quickly. "I didn't even draw my sidearm. They just shot a unarmed prisoner!" I snorted.

"You and your girl need to get your head's out of your asses. Honor doesn't exist in life, let alone war. How you two managed to survive this long is a mystery." I stood up and paced around twice. Okay, so he was still weak. How to fix that? "It's a dog's world now." I told him. "Only the strong survive. The weak get left behind to the buzzards." He paled. Of course, life had always been live of die like that to Sarah and me, but now the rest of the world got to be the bitches to fate.

"Didn't Captain Waylon say there was a provisional government in the Capital?" He asked in confusion.

"Don't mention that asswad or I'll snap both your legs." He shrunk. Two nurses glanced over at me. Well, all this was doing was scaring him. I wondered if he had one of those anxiety problem thingies.

_" I wonder…"_ An idea popped into my head. It would be cruel, but it would probably work for sure. If this didn't work, the kid was doomed. "You need to toughen up." I said casually. "Word's a very fucked up place now." He looked uneasy. "Kim didn't tell you? Yeah, lawlessness everywhere. All sorts of bastards running around now. Everyone is feeling it, girls and women especially." I glanced at his face briefly, which had a look of fearful curiosity. "Yeah, a lot of raping going on recently. Younger girls are definitely at risk." He looked horrified. "Without a guy to protect them, they just wait in fear for it to happen." I shrugged. Bait set, now to see if the fish stayed hooked. "Kim's really out of luck on her part then." I started walking away.

"Wait!" He said desperately. I heard a thud and a sharp squeal.

_"The fuck?"_ I turned around. He fallen on the ground and was trying to stand up using the bed as support. He was actually managing pretty well; though it was pretty obvious his legs were bleeding again. Several nurses dropped what they were doing. Aw, hell. I hadn't seen that happening to be honest. I grabbed his roughly and tossed him back on the bed. He sat up on his own. The nurses came, and simultaneously pushed him down and pushed me away.

"You need to leave." He said forcefully.

"Wait a second!" He pleaded.

"Lay _down._" The medic said more forcefully.

"Out." The medic repeated, pushing me towards the tent flap before roughly shoving me back outside.

_"Dicks." _What the hell? I was just giving him some motivation. He walked, didn't he?

"You know, you could be a drill sergeant." Sarah commented. Surprised, I turned and saw she was leaning near the opening to the medic tent.

"You heard that? I thought you were asleep." Damn, she was going to turn this against me somehow. I knew it. She smirked knowingly.

"Whole thing. I passed Kim when she was heading to the bathroom and she said you were visiting. I just had to see for myself."

'I thought she was faking." I stalled, trying to find a better response. She didn't fall for it.

"I didn't think you actually cared." She commented. I shook my head.

"I hate weakness, I find it repulsive. What's the problem with trying to get rid of some of it? Wait, you're doing the exact same thing with Kim!" I threw out my counter point.

"So I am." She acknowledged. "We're both mentoring one of them." She pointed out. I shook my head. Stamping out weakness and mentoring were too different things.

"I ain't a mentor." I replied. "I'm just trying to do some good for the two of us. Those two pick up, they'll leave us alone." Sarah laughed.

"I've actually been trying to get them together for a while." She admitted. I raised an eyebrow.

"Since when were you a match-maker?" I asked. She shrugged.

"Don't know. But it's something to do. They obviously like each other. Beside," She said with a hint of amusement. "Their reactions get funnier each time."

"Like a damn High School here." I muttered. "And you're acting like a kid yourself!"

"Sue me." She retorted, a light grin on her face.

"You're in a good mood." I observed. She wasn't usually this playful.

"I've just been seeing the world differently for the past few days. View's nice, you should see it too."

"You're trying to get me to lighten up a little, aren't you? Changing's a bit harder for me then you." I muttered. Even if there weren't a lot of people around, I still didn't want to get heard. "But hell." I grinned. "You might be on to something there. Sounds like good entertainment."

"If you're idea of nudging is anything like that little 'pep talk' then you should probably not." She turned serious again. "I will admit I'm impressed though; you actually hit a nerve. He usually just absorbs anything anyone says."

"I still don't get why they let him in in the first place. I mean, I know reserve squadrons aren't front line but jeez."

"Kim's the same way." She pointed out. "She's pretty skilled in the air, it's just down on the earth that it shows." I absorbed those words for a second and shrugged. I guess not being able to see the corpse of the person you just killed had something to do with it.

"I really don't get kids." I shook my head.

"Would be a lot easier if we did." Sarah agreed. "Seems to be a lot of kids doing the fighting now."

"This is making me feel old." I complained. Shit, I was their age ten years ago, but I didn't get a single fucking thing they did. Then again, it's not like Sarah and me actually ever were kids, not in the mental sense anyway.

"Hmm." Sarah mused. She started pacing a few steps off so I followed. "There's the shelter, right over there." She turned towards the dull gray metal visible in the side of the mountain.

"Yep." Was the only response I gave her.

"Still unsure?" She asked. Actually, I had been thinking about the thing for a while now, though not consciously. I'd overheard some grunts talking right after we pulled up about how the shelter probably wasn't that good. But they still wanted to stay in it. Their reasoning was it was where everyone they knew was going to stay here. Only person I was close to was Sarah… well, Stone was a cool guy anyway. Aside from the annoying perkiness, Kim was decent in comparison. It wasn't much though. But at least I had something. A lot of people didn't have shit anymore…

"I think I'll give it a shot." The words left me before I actually made the decision. "If that fails, we can always head to the Capital. There should be enough people so that we might not even see that asshat Waylon." I quickly put in. It was an option, though we'd probably go on the plight alone. "Ah hell." I muttered. Great, I was going soft after all.

Sarah simply leaned on me. "A lot of change has happened." She said. "A lot more will happen." I sighed. She had a point.

"Yeah." I agreed. "Doesn't mean I have to look forward to it though." _"Not like there's a actual future to look forward too. We'll be long dead before the world even comes a inch towards being normal again."_

X With James X

Playful laughing filled the air as the kids kicked the soccer ball back and forth. Parents and soldiers alike were watching the show. I sat just a few feet from the Chinook (which Sgt. Anderson had just formally granted the call sign of Phoenix 12-1, much to the recruits delight), observing the sight with fondness: it reminded me of the games we use to play on the street back home when we were kids.

But we weren't kids anymore. We were soldiers, entrusted with a great responsibility. I think that's always what the government wanted, as much propaganda we saw in school and how many officers appeared to talk about the benefits of enlisting. When they looked at kids, they saw tomorrow's soldiers.

_"But what does society see these kids as?"_ I wondered. The age of warfare surely had passed; I couldn't imagine our two countries had neither the will nor power to fight. But still…all this traveling showed just how destroyed the world was. It would be centuries before the return to normalcy. For however long that took, peacekeepers would be needed… I shook my head.

_"No one wants to see more bloodshed." _ I tried to reason to myself. So much carnage and death surely destroyed everyone's appetite for destruction, save the raiders of course, but their kind were being killed off. When the time came, this kids wouldn't be soldiers, they'd be carpenters or farmers. Peaceful occupations…

"Corporal! Corporal!" I suddenly felt someone shaking my soldiers desperately. My eyes, which were somehow closed, snapped open. Rockefeller was standing over me, his eyes wide with panic. Thick black smoke drifted above him; I realized I was lying on the ground. "Artillery attack!" He shouted. My senses all came rushing back to me and I quickly scrambled up. More shells were still landing. One of the spare Chinooks, laden with all of our unit's supplies, went up in a massive fireball. Screaming and shouting filled the air over the sound of the falling artillery.

"The civilians!" I panted and spun around. "We need to-" The words stopped dead in my throat as I turned to the stretch where the kids had been playing soccer. The field was in ruin, a large crater in the middle of it. Several small, limp bodies lay around it. All the kids were dead, now unable to help shape the future.

XX Author's note XX

Depressing scenes always get me down when I try to type. Awkward or depressing scenes always do that, though they are still necessary. Regardless, I'll try and avoid those two feelings in the upcoming chapters, and follow the games path of more action oriented.

11 reviews, over 1000 views, 3 alerts, and 3 favorites. This story has come a long way from it's original.

Please leave a review on your way out with feedback or suggestions.

And before I forget, the sniper mentioned briefly in this chapter, Lieutenant Story, is an OC submitted and owned by **NINJAboy4145. **I thank you for the OC.


	25. Almost Home

X With James X

"Motherfuckers…" The insult came out in low and savage growl, one I was not even aware I could make. Another shell landed nearby. There couldn't have been more then two guns, judging by the frequency of impact, but it seemed like a whole damn battalion of it was raining down on us.

"Sir?" Collins said respectfully. Not enough time to think, only to act. I quickly survived the situation: The civilians were screaming and running around while the rear guard was trying vainly to help them. Damn, they were panicking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sgt. Carpenter stumble over. The helicopter!

"We need to get the civilians out of here NOW." I intercepted him. "Start the damn helicopter!" He nodded and sped off without a word. I turned back to Collins.

"Try and round up the civilians!" I ordered. He nodded and likewise ran off. I turned. I looked around for anyone I could recognize, only to swear when I realized it was impossible to tell. I dismissed the thought immediately; they could survive on their own. The civilians needed help.

My waving and yelling seemed to go unheard over the other yelling, so I resorted to physical contact. I grabbed a man running by; he stared at me with eyes spread wide in fear. "The helicopter!" I mouthed. He nodded gratefully and ran for the bird. A soldier herding along several frightened women paused when I waved to him. He got the message and changed direction. The helicopter was the better chance to survive; Either that or make a deadly dash a couple hundred meters to the town over bare land.

Another shell landed somewhere nearby, the force causing me to stumble. Somewhere nearby, a tank cannon responded. _"Are the raiders already here?"_ I turned around in panic, but no enemy combatants could be seen. The tank fired again, and this time part of the mountainside exploded. It was trying to flush them out.

The tide was slow, but other civilians spotted our effort, and began clawing desperately aboard. Somewhere in my mind, past the adrenaline, realized that so many people shouldn't be crowding into one helicopter, but what choice did we have. A man roughly shoved a woman to the ground in an effort to escape. _"What the hell does he think he's doing?" _"Ma'am, get up!" I grabbed her arm and guided her to the ramp.

"Go with this guy, kids, you'll live." Sam ran up, a crying child under each arm. After he passed them on, he turned to me. His face was dark with anger. "Those bastards just killed those kids!"

"No shit." I growled. Sam scowled and turned back towards the mountains. I looked around. The immediate area had cleared itself out of its own free will. Any civilian who hadn't gotten in a vehicle or crowded into the helicopter had simply braved the bare stretch to the city. Even though I glanced briefly, it was clear that there were at least two-dozen dead. _"Damnit." _A shell exploded far to close for comfort; I was flung back and roughly banged against the side of the Chinook.

"This is fucking hell, we can't stay here!" I could hear Carpenter yelling through my daze. I banged the side of the helicopter.

"Get the hell out of here!" I yelled. We couldn't go ourselves; the helicopter was too overloaded. Over the horizon, the first raiders appeared. "Take off!" I repeated. The helicopter lifted.

"Motherfuckers!" Sam shouted and started firing. At this range, it was a waste of ammo, especially since our supplies had gone up in smoke. But the action did seem tempting… I shook my head. Professionalism: had to stay sane.

I knelt down and took aim. The whole area was flat, dotted only by burning or abandoned trucks and jeeps; Hardly an ideal battlefield. I took aim and fired. If the bullets didn't hit him, they sent a chill down his spine. I switched and fired again, firing in short bursts to improve accuracy. As far as I could tell, it was only infantry at the moment. A Sky Raider soared overhead, firing at some other part of the line. _"They still have planes?"_

Two recruits found their way to us in the chaos. Everyone was breaking up. Half of the unit was probably already in the city. Or dead. I did not dwell on the last thought long.

"All units, get the hell out of there! Fall back into the city!" The order blared through all channels.

"I like the Captain's thinking." Collins commented through gritted teeth. Everyone apparently thought the same; the remaining tanks were already pulling out.

"Hooah, now let's get the fuck out of here!" Sam ejected his second clip. We all turned and made a dash for safety. From this distance, it could've been five miles. I fully expected a shell or a sniper bullet to hit us, or even for that Sky Raider to make reappearance. But none of that happened. We reached the safer feeling confines of the street. Urban warfare was very deadly, but it was less likely to kill you then being out in the open.

We paused briefly under the concealment of a flower shop doorway. Guns went up at the sound of hurried footsteps, but it was only a few more recruits. They looked absolutely terrified. Okay, Sam, Collins, seven recruits, and me. That was about a third of the platoon accounted for.

"They're right behind us, what do we do?" I could tell the recruit was trying to keep his nerves straight.

"We need to hide." Sam stated. I nodded.

"We need to hunker down somewhere and find out what the hell's going on." I looked down the street. I noted a cinema just a couple dozen meters away across. It'd be a good place to hide. I pointed and gave the order to move. We all stayed flat against the wall till we were directly across from the building. We all broke from cover and ran. Bullets bounced at our feet. I turned to see a lone raider, a scout possibly, firing from further down. My mind immediately decided he couldn't be allowed to live; he'd give away our position. "Scout behind us, take him out!" I called and took aim. Even at this distance, he could not dodge the fire. He went down in a heap.

"Why would they have a theatre in this city?" Sam wondered out loud as he dived behind the snack counter. I likewise ducked behind a cardboard sign. This whole city was just that: an actual city. But then what was the point of the shelter?

"Someone report in god damnit!" The voice rang over the channel. That was Sgt. Anderson. Before I responded, Peter's voice replied.

"Got seven people with me. We rode in with the medical evacuations."

"Ten of us, we're taking cover from the enemy." I reported quickly. "They should pass any second.

"Riley and me got the rest. No casualties." Sgt. Anderson sounded relieved. No casualties for our unit, but how many civilian and soldier bodies were still lying in the no man's land outside the city? We should've tried harder to recover at least some of them.

"So what the fuck is the plan now?" Sam asked. Sgt. Anderson was silent for a minute.

"Coleman, stay with the medics. Guard them at all cost. Coleman, Garcia, wait for the enemy to pass and then drive straight into their ass. We're going to do the same thing. We need to throw them off."

"Copy, we'll hit their rear." I nodded to myself. We all held our breath as a howling group of raiders ran by outside. _"Savages."_

X With Tim X

Many wise sayings spring up in the streets. I almost always followed them, because they did me no wrong. Like now: you don't have to be the fastest to survive, just be faster then the other guy. Though that was cruel to apply to soldiers.

"Fucking grunts and their fucking radars with their fucking-" I growled in frustration as I threw on the headphones. Sarah climbed into the co-pilot seat quickly. A nice peaceful moment had turned into war. Again. I knew I shouldn't have trusted those fucking idiots. My foot was going in their asses when this was over.

"Bastards don't know when to stay down." Sarah grunted. As soon I plugged in the radio, I heard nothing but idiotic ramblings.

"Fuck it, we're getting off the ground." I declared. I could already see everyone else getting the hell out of dodge. Go with the flow. A Sky Raider swooped down, guns blazing. The bullets through up dust a few inches away and kept going. The line connected with a truck carrying one of the F-4s and both went up, as well the unfortunate soldier trying to move the truck. "Shit!" I swore. We had to get out of here. I nearly drove the helicopter into the ground as I took her up. I quickly leveled it and took off over the town. Top cover; some damn AA below and we could operate freely.

"Killjoy 3, did you get off the ground?" Stone was trying to contact us.

"Yeah, nearly got shot down though." I growled.

"They've evacuated all the others, I'm taking off." He informed us. What about Kim? He was going up alone? Hell, even if he found enough room to take off there had to be a shitload of AA in the mountains. These bastards were smarter then they looked.

"Good luck." I said. As Sarah would point out later, my voice had been softer when I said that. My excuse? I respected the damned old fool, just like any other time. Any one man who would challenge any odds like that needed luck.

"Looks lively down there." I commented. We'd reached the center of the city in no time. The Battalion was already regrouping there.

"Radar's out, can you give us some eyes up there?" A voice requested over the radio. I scowled. This wasn't a scout helicopter. Regardless, Sarah began calling targets as she saw them. I saw artillery hitting the city from both directions. They were hiding mostly in the mountains. I didn't think there could be many, not after what those bombers did last time. Yet here they were. As soon as there was a moment of silence, I snatched up the radio.

"You idiots got any AA down there? I am NOT getting shot down today." The voice hesitated before replying.

"The missiles are being jammed, and some of the indirect radio channels, but the tanks are still active. They got you covered. I snorted. Those things weren't good against anything but helicopters. But still, we couldn't just wait around.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll go ahead and get the tanks." I could see at least five from up here. "Ready?" I asked Sarah.

"Missiles are online." She nodded. I pitched forward to an angle she could get a shot from. All five of the tanks were gone soon, but a problem remained. "The enemy infantry is taking cover inside the buildings. We have clearance to fire?" Sarah sent the question to the top. Damn, she had a point; we probably had to keep this city intact, since it'd being our future home.

"All units try and avoid firing on any housing structures. But you have permission to engage is necessary." The Captain relayed his message throughout the front. That was damn constrictive; more then half the buildings were apartments!

A raider Sky Raider descended upon the town with rockets. I swung the helicopter away as the ground and buildings below were blown apart. Pockets of fire from AA tanks followed the propeller plane, but failed to score a major hit. A F-15 swung by us and after the Sky Raider. That would've been Stone.

There'd been quite a few of our guys down there, dead now. Shit. A blaring tone alerted us that something had locked onto us. Swearing, Sarah tried to locate the source. A fighter jet, definitely not a F-15, appeared over the mountains and began closing fast.

"It's locked onto us!" Sarah warned.

_"Fuck!"_ The warning sirens blared louder. "Take that thing out you fucking idiots!" The ground crews were already firing before I even finished. It was probably just luck, though our recent record caused skepticism, but they managed to hit the fighter before it fired. It tumbled in midair, passing clear over the city before evaporating into a million pieces against the side of a mountain.

"Thanks for that." Sarah breathed.

"No problem ma'am, just kill the fuckers in the building!" Gunfire rang out in the background.

"Two Sky Raider's down." Stone reported to everyone. There were cries of thanks all around. That had to be their air cover. We were free to act.

"Sarah?"

"On it." She nodded. We outnumbered these bastards easily. We'd have this won before the hour was over.

X With James X

"We're moving out." Sgt. Anson reported.

"Copy." Sam replied. He glanced over at me and nodded. It was time for us to move out. But as we all approached the doorway, I heard something that made me stop: a low but familiar roaring sound. Bombers. But we didn't have bombers anymore…

"Get back!" I yelled. "Take cover!" I immediately knelt down and covered the back of my head with my hands.

"Fuck!" Sam dived back behind the counter. It was another 30 seconds before the bombs actually landed, but even then our cover was inadequate; a movie theatre was nowhere close to a bomb shelter.

I assumed the bombs were high explosive solely from how much the building shook. Outside, windows shattered and lethal chunks of concrete were blown everywhere. Inside, the whole damn roof fell in on us. My body nearly buckled as debris landed on my back. It was at least ten seconds before I realized it was over. The roaring was dying away, and all that remained was a ringing in my ears. I shoved the junk off me and stood up.

"Sound off!" The last part came out in a cough as I inhaled dust.

"Cool your jets Jimmy boy, I'm fine." Sam coughed back.

"Everyone alive?" Collins called. A mismatch of responses drifted from the smoke.

"We can't stay here." I coughed. "Get into the street." We all stumbled out into the twilight. "Sgt. Anderson, we're moving to attack now." No response. I concentrated on the channel, but only heard static.

"Hey! Anyone on this damn thing?" Sam was messing with his own headset.

"Must be being jammed." I realized with a pang of dread. Jammers now? "Gonna cause a lot more trouble." I looked up and down the street. There was no sign of friend or foe.

"Let's keep moving." Sam started walking. I nodded.

"Right. Let's go." Five minutes later, I wish I knew the layout of the city. We could here the firing like it was right next to us, yet we couldn't see it. The occasional artillery shell blew out a building on either side, forcing us to exercise even more caution. Suddenly, fire erupted from the apartment on the opposite side of the street.

"Ambush!" Collins called. There was nowhere to hide on this side of the street.

"Cross! Brave the fire!" I ordered. It was really our only option; we'd be out of their immediately line of fire. Though a couple of bullets danced around our feet, we made it to their side of the street without casualties.

"Aim for the windows." I whispered. I lifted my rifle. If they wanted to hit us now, they'd have to expose themselves. One was dumb enough. The raider-I could tell from his gear- leaned out from the window with his rifle pointed down. We fired first. Hit several times, he was knocked right out of his perch, and dead before he hit the ground.

"That'll only work once." Sam warned. I nodded.

"Move under the windows and throw some grenades up there. That ought to scare the bastards." I looked to see there were only two windows. "Sam, give me a hand here." I whispered as I pulled one off my belt. Though it was only two stories, I honestly didn't have much faith in the recruits. Better safe then sorry. I pulled the pin and flung it in. Sam did the same and we both moved out of the way.

"FUCK!" The swear preceded the detonation by a second. A raider was blasted right out the window. His panicked scream was cut short as he landed awkwardly on the sidewalk. They was a sick crunching noise of several bones, perhaps including his spine, broke. He was dead instantly. The recruits stared at the body-which now resembled having been impaled- in horror.

"Prick." As a statement of insult, Sam spit on the corpse. It wasn't appropriate conduct, but I wasn't arguing.

"Keep moving." I ordered. Three, maybe five raiders were dead, but that still left more. I unsuccessfully tried to reach someone over the radio. We were so close, yet still cut off.

"Hey!" A recruit pointed down an alley as we passed it. We paused. At the other end, the bright tracers of bullets flew in both directions. There was a fight going on.

"Let's go." Sam waved.

"Collins, cover our rear." I ordered, moving up beside Sam. We reached the end of the alley and stopped; it was far too dangerous to stick our heads out now. "We wait till one side passes." I ordered. The exchange continued for at least a minute before one side pulled out a tank. The shell flew past us and detonated. Comically, a tire rolled by. The tank, a old and dented Sheridan, rolled past. 12th Battalion support infantry followed behind closely. Two paused and noticed us before raising their rifles.

"12th Helicopter wing!" Sam called. They lowered their rifles.

"Come give us a hand boys!" They started running.

"We're making up a lot of ground." Collins commented. Indeed, we were heading back towards the edge of the city.

"Considering their numbers, they probably lost the element of surprise." I guessed. We got up with the tank. "Your radios out too?" I called.

"Yeah." One spat. "Bastards are jamming it, probably from the mountains. We're clearing a path for the rockets. Those will sort the bastard off!"

"Sounds good." I nodded. "Keep your eye's peeled!" I ordered our own group. The Sheridan turned its gun and fired at a building, causing it to collapse onto the street. From down the street, two rockets were fired from building doorways on both sides of the street. The Sheridan went up in flames as the rockets each found a side to punch through. As we recoiled from the flames, the raiders started firing at us.

"Cover! Find cover!" Someone yelled. The problem was there was little cover on the street. Only the doorways provided any defense. Stuck without much a choice, most of us simply dropped prone and started firing back. The raider's dark clothing caused them to blend in to the shadows of the doorways they were firing from, forcing me to use the flash of their guns as a target. It didn't matter how much equipment you had; you also needed a lot of skill.

Something, or rather several things, streaked shrilly above our heads. The street ahead went on in flames, and three of the buildings went down. I looked over my shoulder to see a M270 sitting down the street, the back rockets still lifted.

"Aren't they a little close?" A recruit asked, pushing himself up.

"Who cares? They get shit done." One of the 12th Battalion soldiers stood off. The tank was still on fire as we passed it, the horrid smell of burning flesh threatening to make us pass out. The radio still only put out static.

_"Hopefully, they don't have anymore of those War Tanks."_ The raiders had proved themselves beyond simple savagery; they could think, at least to some capacity.

"How many of these pricks do you think are left?" Sam asked.

"Can't be more then fifty." A 12th Battalion soldier replied. Fifty? I knew there weren't that many left, but I didn't think they would attack with numbers that low.

_"Where's the sense in that?"_ I thought as we all climbed over the rubble.

"Look up." A soldier said gruffly. I lifted my head. Though it almost fit in with the sky, I could clearly see a B-52 high above, the same bomber that nearly dropped the theatre on us. A faster streak, a fighter jet no doubt, was fast climbing after it. We must've got a plane in the air.

_"At least part of the Air Wing is safe."_ Hopefully, all the pilots were okay.

"Look ahead." Another said. I looked back down. The edge of town could be seen where the pavement gave way to dirt.

"Not much fighting." A recruit said, sounding glum.

"There's not much fight to go around, kid." A 12th Battalion soldier grumbled. "Most the fighting is behind us." I turned around. Indeed, most the gunfire, as well of the Apache (I breathed a sigh of relief) was in the center of town. We were encircling them.

"Keep an eye on the shops. They might be waiting for us to pass." I called. I peered into each store window as we passed, but all of them had no signs of any activity. In fact, most of the windows and doors were coated with dust. _"Bastards are probably holding out for death in the middle of town." _I thought.

We reached the edge of town, but did not go any further for fear of sniper fire. From here I could still see the shapes of bodies and burning vehicles left behind. _"We came back. No one left behind."_ One of the soldiers started waving to the rocket vehicle behind us.

"Get that damn thing up here!" He yelled. The truck, being slow and bulky, took time to bring up to the line.

"Form a rear guard." I ordered. "They may come from behind." We all moved behind the rockets as they passed, keeping our eyes peeled as the crew stepped down and readied to fire. There was explosion, causing me to glance back and see a artillery shell had landed nearby. They knew what was coming.

"Commencing counter-fire!" With the same shrill sound as before, multiple rockets shot out and soared in a high arc towards the mountains. Some exploded against the side, but the others cleared the peaks and detonated out of sight. Almost immediately, the radio came back on. "Reloading!"

"Report in!" Sgt. Anderson demanded immediately. I quickly reported our current situation. His group was fighting in the center of the city. I learned Peter was just a little further away, helping an injured party. "Just a little more and we'll be victorious." Sgt. Anderson said encouragingly.

"We got this!" Sam yelled.

"What the fuck?" We all turned at the soldier's shrill yell. He was pointing to the sky. I looked up. My eyes widened.

"Oh damn." I muttered.

"Run!" Someone yelled. "Run the fuck away!"

X With Tim X

"Things are going quiet." Sarah said.

"Shit, I figured there would've been more of them." I watched as a band of raiders were literally blown out of their cover. I tapped the side of the stick impatiently. Sarah started acting as a lookout, directing the soldiers below after the retreating raiders. Wouldn't help them much; there were grunts at the edge of the city too. They were walking right into a meat grinder.

"Hey! What the fuck is that plane doing?" At that moment, everything seemed to fall into a shocked silence. I looked up. I saw a rapidly falling smoke trail. Then my mind corrected myself. That was a bomber, a flaming bomber. And it was still turning…towards the town? Wait.

_ "What the fuck?"_

"What are those pilots doing?" Sarah was equally shocked. Behind the falling hunk of metal and flames, I could see a shape serving in and out of the trailing smoke. Stone, probably trying to do something. Several missiles streaked past us. They must've got back online. The right wing blew off and plummeted to the mountains, but I knew it wouldn't do much; Bombers were built tough to the point where it was impossible to evaporate. That thing was going to hit.

"Oh shit." I realized the situation. It could wipe out the town. Hell, the blast wave alone would knock us out of the sky! "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I turned the helicopter around. It seemed to serve as a signal, as everyone else started running.

Even over the roar of the blades, I could still hear that sucker touch down. I pulled up as dust and dirt were blown into the air. If the engines went out, we were as good as dead. I finally spun her around.

"Fuck…" I muttered. Sarah didn't say anything. The dust dispersed. In a instant, nearly a quarter of the town had been knocked out. There was a straight line of dirt that cut through it, like a broom had swept away any buildings. The remaining wing had broken off and flipping through the city, cutting a neat little path of its own. Anything in either of those paths was no more. _"I've heard of going down fighting, but holy shit!"_

The radio started blaring with yelling. I spotted Stone's jet flying over the city, but for some reason it didn't immediately come to my mind to contact him. After the initial chaos, an affirmative voice seized all attention: "It missed! Say again, it missed most of us!" Most? Then what about the rest?

X In the mountains X

Far away, on a mountaintop overlooking the whole town, The Beast stood with the bomber control consol in his hands. A outside observer would've noticed his left eye twitching in rage, then his whole body, before… "GODDAMN SOLDIER BOY!" The Beast tore the consol in two. When his roaches had been losing, he had opted to simply crash the whole plane and kill every one of them in the process. But the plane went amiss. They were still alive; he could see it.

He was angry, far angrier then ever; an anger that could only be tamed by killing a main brutally with his own hands. He spun around…and found no one else there. Any remaining raiders had fled, preferring the unforgiving world to staying. He stalked around angrily, flipping over tables and radio equipment as he did. Then he saw _him._

Dr. Caulder appeared as calm as ever as he stood under the shelter of a camouflaging net, seemingly unaffected by the lack of human activity. The Beast stalked angrily towards the scientist. This was HIS fault. It was his plane! Before The Beast could get close enough, however, Caulder drew a gun with lightning speed.

The Beast went down with a howl of pain and surprise as the bullet tore his left thigh; He had not expected the doctor to be armed. "H-Hey!" The Beast tried to stand, only to collapse again. He started to crawl before a horrible burning sensation seized him. He howled again and started thrashing.

"They're a new bullet I've developed. Fascinating, isn't it?" Caulder smirked as a non-descript black helicopter landed behind him. "My time here has been…interesting." Caulder mused, although the stupid brute probably couldn't hear him. "But it appears the experiment has come to a untimely end. Oh well." He shrugged, as if he had lost nothing more then a nickel. "You have served your purpose my savage Beast; this data will be very helpful. But you are no longer any use to me. You may continue dying." Caulder turned and started walking for the helicopter, his cloak waving behind him.

"Hey!" Braving the pain, The Beast tried valiantly to crawl to the helicopter, only to watch it take off before he barely covered five feet. He tried to stand, but the burning returned, causing him to fall. More blood pulsed from the wound onto the rocky soil. He was alone. He was going to die.

No one was around to hear The Beasts last roar of fury.

X With James X

My nearest place my memory picked up was blackness. I wasn't quite sure what was going on, but I was aware of a throbbing pain somewhere in my body. I was also moving, yet my legs were not. My eyes opened a slit, though my mind didn't comprehend anything. Before I knew it, the world went dark again.

X With Tim X

I eased out of the pilot seat and dropped down. Sarah followed shortly after. Two soldiers were already running up (I'd decided to land right next to the shelter). "Yeah, yeah, we're fine." I waved them off. In all honesty, I felt like shit. But what could they do about that? They didn't reply. Instead, they just jogged off to help someone else. Huffing slightly, I leaned over, gripping my knees. Man, I wasn't supposed to be this worn out.

Sarah was standing on the ridge, looking down at the city. I joined her after another moment or so. "Always have to fight for everything." She looked up at me, and I felt a pang at the look in her eyes. "We'll never know another lifestyle, not now." I sighed and simply sat down.

"No, but hell if we just give up." I looked at the city. From what I could see, part of it was on fire now. "Hell, if you ask me, its all worth it-." I glanced around to make sure no one else would hear me. "-Just because you're here." She made a sound that might've been a snort before sitting down and leaning against my shoulder.

"You're a lot more open since this whole mess began." She laughed before continuing. "You make it worthwhile too."

"Hell." I put my arm over her shoulder. "You're the only reason I'm still alive." I leaned in, only to pull back abruptly as someone giggled behind us. "Fucking kid." I muttered.

"Am I interrupting?" Kim called.

"No." I replied. _"You're being the same annoying blond as always."_ She came over and sat down on Sarah's other side. I withdrew my arm from her shoulder. Kim drew her knees up to her face.

"It's sad, isn't it?" Kim's voice changed as she peered at the city.

"Some people just don't have a soul." Sarah spat.

_"Most people don't from what I've seen."_

"Stone landed earlier. He doesn't seem to be upset about the whole thing." Kim changed the subject. Hell, I knew that reason through experience.

"Oh, it bothers him." I told her. "But he realized moping won't change it. He just has to move forward."

"How do you know that?" She asked, mildly curious.

"…We're a lot old-" Sarah glared at me. "-We've seen a lot of stuff kid. You haven't seen shit of the outside world." I had to stop myself from adding 'That's why you're so weak'.

"I'll admit that much." She seemed embarrassed. She changed the subject. "All those soldiers that died here…they won't be able to see their new home."

"No, but it was their choice." Sarah patted the younger girls back. "Just like everyone makes a choice on how to live their life-" Sarah glanced over at me as she said this-"they made the choice to fight."

"Yeah, they had their reasons to fight." I nodded.

"Like you guys fight for fun?" Kim's voice held a slight note of accusation in it. I had to give the kid guts. Though at the same time it was annoying.

"Yeah, we fight for bloodlust. Don't act like we're the only ones in the military." I retorted.

"Instead of arguing about random subjects, why don't we go to the shelter?" Sarah suggested. Eh, couldn't really object to that.

"Umm, actually, could I talk to you about something private?" Kim's eyes darted to me briefly.

"Shoo." Sarah pointed. "Give the girls time to talk."

"If I hadn't already seen you without any pants, I'd think you were a guy just by how you act." The last comment earned me a light kick in the back. Laughing, I kept walking, though I stopped laughing soon. Dead, quite a few people were dead. Now, death didn't bother me as much as the regular person, nor did it to the average grunt or boot; soldiers had a resistance to the mental effects of death. Still, the idea kept popping up in my mind. Huh, so I was going soft. The idea suddenly didn't seem that bad. I shook my dead. Tired. I was tired, that was it. I yawned to prove it.

There was a steady stream of people entering the shelter already, mostly soldiers returning from the field. I might as well go inside and have a look, since I'd already told Sarah I was at least going to try. It couldn't actually be much different then the old base, so why again was I so uneasy about the whole thing?

"Ow!" There was a thud behind me. I turned around and saw nothing. I looked down.

"Why the hell are you on the ground?" I asked. Eddie twitched and tried to grab both the crutches. I took a step forward, then stopped. _"Let's see how far he gets."_ It took only a minute actually, but he finally managed to stand.

"Hey." His face twisted in pain. "About what you said earlier-"

_"I really did hit a nerve."_ I wonder if the medical staff realized he was up. "Yeah." I pointed to the city. "You see that? That is what I meant. The world is full of dangerous people now. Strength is the key to survival." I pointed up dramatically. "How the hell did you survive training anyway?" I took the opportunity to get a answer

"In reserve training, they really only make sure you can actually fly." He admitted. I snorted.

"Government always does stupid things." I muttered before shaking my head. "Anyway, strength!" I stressed the word. "Someone's gonna have to look after Kim, cause she sure as hell can't do it herself, and Sarah won't be able to always be there. That leaves you."

"She isn't weak." He tried to defend her. I smirked.

"Both of you kids are the same. The world is a tough place. Even together you two wouldn't survive. You're both decent people, I'll admit." It took me a minute to get the last part out. "But it's possible to be strong AND stay like that."

"But…she's taller then me." He objected.

"So?" I raised an eyebrow. "Why the fuck should size matter? Nothing fucking matters except motivation." I stated. "You want to get strong, don't you? You just got to think about why. Thinking about Sarah is what helped me."

"It helped you?" I froze. I hadn't realized I just actually recounted part of my life.

_"FUCK!" _I scratched my head. "…Yeah, I wasn't that strong once either. Now, BAM!" I made a faux punch, causing him to fall down again. While he struggled to get up, I went on. "Think. That's all that fucking matters." I repeated. I watched him squirm for another moment. "You're choice boy: live or die. But if you choose to live, do it fast. Your girlfriend is starting to get real annoying." After another moment of hesitation I extended a hand and helped him up. "Just quit being a pussy already." I summed it all up and started walking. I'd done my part. Now it was up to natural selection (something which a lot of people found reason to help others cheat).

"Thanks for the help." He called.

"Help? Why would I help you? I just want someone to get the blond out of the way." I waved him off.

"Whatever you want to call it." He called back.

"Hey." I turned around, pointing at him. He was grinning, something I'd never actually witnessed before. _"Guess he's taking a page from Kim's book." _That was great. "One blond is annoying enough, so don't." He kept grinning. As I turned around, I tried to keep the corners of my mouth from twitching.

X With James X

My ears were overloaded as soon as they came back into function. I snapped my eyes open in confusion. All I saw at first was a mass of movement. Then my hands, then my feet, and the metallic gray walls. I sat dumbly for a second before I remembered the bomber. I swung my head both directions, seeing fellow soldiers sitting against the same wall. I tried to ask the one on my right what happened, only to realize my jaw didn't move; a cloth bound it. I also realized I couldn't _feel_ my jaw. "Well Corporal, nice of you to join us." I looked up and recoiled in shock. "Ah, don't be so damn dramatic." Sgt. Anderson waved me off with a red and swollen hand. "I've been burned before. It ain't that bad." I'd believed him if the front of his uniform was all but missing.

"Me mockets?" I asked.

"The MRS went up in flames, but the crew survived." Much to my relief, he understood my question. "No casualties from our unit." He motioned to the soldiers on either side. I noticed for the first time they were indeed from our unit. Maybe the ignorance was the lightheadedness I was feeling… As Sgt. Anderson left, Peter came up.

"James." He extended a hand and pulled me up. "Had me worried there for a minute." He hugged me. I simply shrugged.

"Hey Jimmy boy!" Sam came up. He looked relatively unharmed, though he walked with a limp. "Ooh." He recoiled. "Damn dude, you're face is fucked up." I blinked. I had already deducted that my jaw must've been broken, but I hadn't considered anything else.

"Minor scarring." Peter assured. "The others will be scarred too." I raised a hand to my face but Peter grabbed it. "I…wouldn't do that." I just blinked stupidly.

"Out of the way!" A voice barked irritably. Two soldiers ran by, carrying a casualty between them. A horrified pair of civilians stepped out of the way. The soldier though, was calm. He gave the civilians a thumb up as he was carried passed.

_"Valor."_ I thought in appreciation.

"Hut two." Sgt. Anderson reappeared. The whole unit stood up as one. "You've all fought bravely." He began. "The amount of civilian casualties was very low." By military standards, that was meant to be good. But the bodies… "Today marks the beginning of a new chapter, and I hope…" Sgt. Anderson paused when he realized the hustle and bustle behind him had ceased. He turned around. The crowd behind him, both civilian and soldier, broke apart, with soldiers generally gravitating to this side and civilians to the other. I realized we were in a large room, possible a storage area.

"Are we supposed to live in fear of being attacked?" I recognized the voice as the mayor. I felt a pang of dread when I realized he was apparently arguing with the Captain and Lieutenant. That was far from a good sign. The mayor coughed as he realized all attention had turned to him.

"Is there a point to this?" Captain Brenner asked, ignoring the attention. What was he trying to doing?

"You're soldiers." The mayor continued. "You have the weapons and training to survive anywhere. This shelter is the civilian populations only hope. We believe it's logical that you should leave." There was a uproar from our side of the room. I felt a wave of hot, bubbling rage inside. Did he have any idea how many of us had _died_ just so we could all be here? But after the raider base, I suppose it was to be expected.

"_What an ass." _I scowled. As much as I could anyway. Captain Brenner raised his hand. The quarreling ceased immediately.

"There's plenty of room here for everyone." The Captain tried to reason.

"That is not the point!" The Mayor shot back. "Your presence is a danger! This is the collective opinion of the civilian population." As he said that, the crowd behind him shifted. I recognized some of the civilians looked quite uncomfortable_. _

'_Collective opinion?' _

"I believe the solution is clear." The Mayor went on, ignoring the death-glares being sent his way. "Am I right, everyone?" He turned to the civilian population. "Shall we vote like civilized men?" A vote?

"That is not a reasonable proposition." The Lieutenant challenged him. "In terms of numbers, your civilians have an overwhelming majority. Additionally, many of our man are either incapacitated or still in the field. Would you use that to your advantage?" She challenged. "Is that what we're dealing with here?" The Mayor looked flustered.

"How disrespectful!" He looked affronted. " I'm not trying to set up a dictatorship! This new World should be built on democracy. One person, one vote! That's what I say!

Or would you rather threaten us with your guns and bully us into submission?" He boldly stepped forward. I felt a sinking feeling in my heart. Soldiers were tools of the government, and the people controlled the government, which meant…

"Yeah, OK, I'm comfortable with that." The Lieutenant took a step forward, causing the mayor the recoil.

"Stand down Lin." Brenner called over to cheers that had risen from our side.

"Yes…Very well then." The Mayor recovered. "We vote, the majority decided!" He declared. "All in favor of the soldiers leaving the shelter raise their hands!" He raised his own. I closed my eyes for a brief second, praying that when I opened them they'd be good news. I opened one…and breathed a sigh of relief. Only about seven other hands were up. The Mayor was at a lost. "Come on…" He turned to the civilian population. "Let's see some hands!" No other hands went up.

"I don't think so." A woman said quietly.

"Me neither!" called another voice from the ground.

"What are you doing?" The Mayor demanded in a mix of fear and anger. "I gave you the plan, now do as your told!" Several snarls emerged from the throats of the combatives. That fat bastard was trying to rig it!

"But they fought for us!" A civilian objected. "They risked their lives for us." She tried to reason.

"Some of them…died for us." The civilian speaking looked at us as he said that.

_"They understand."_ I realized.

"We can't just can't throw them out there!" She went on.

"I think they should stay!" Someone boldly declared. A wave of agreement came from the crowd. I couldn't really describe the feeling of happiness I had at that moment. I put forth all my effort for their sake, and they appreciated it.

The Captain turned to the Mayor, though I could no longer hear the exchange. But the Mayor storming off told me all I needed to know. I grinned. It was unknown who started it, but before I knew it the whole soldier population present was being applauded. To be completely honest, I felt embarrassed.

"Thank you." The Captain addressed when the civilians quieted down. "You have my gratitude. As you know, my people and me have been on search and rescue 24/7 since the meteor strike. But most of the people we 'saved' didn't last very long…Sometimes I questioned the value of what we've been doing." He admitted. I felt another bit of happiness. I'd done the same thing. It was comforting to know our CO knew how we felt. "But knowing you understand makes it all worth while. Thank you." The Civilians broke into applause again.

When it went quiet and the crowds dispersed to explore the actual shelter, Sgt. Anderson turned back to us. The thin outline of a smile was still on his face. Sgt. Anson, standing a few feet away, had his back turned. I had a good idea why…

"Well." Sgt. Anderson started. "I certainly hope you all know the true feeling of being a soldier." There were determined nods. "And I hope you'll keep that feeling. Because we still have a lot to do!" The last part rung out in a loud and authoritive voice that made everyone snap to attention. "This is our base now, but there's still a whole world out there!" He pointed to the shelter doors. "Full of people that still need our help, understand?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" We all echoed. He was right. We had the helicopters and the training. It would be up us.

"Damn right!" He continued. "So you all better damn well stay ready to act, cause the world won't restore itself. We got to help it. So keeps you boots polished and your guns loaded. And I expect that when the time comes, you all will continue to serve bravely."

"Sir, Yes, Sir!" We all echoed again.

"Good." He nodded. "Dismissed!" As we all departed for the shelter, I had strong hope for the future. It was possible, it was in sight, and it was up to _us_. Ignoring the pain returning to my face, I walked with a little more step, Peter and Sam both walking beside me.

XX Author's note XX

This is it. This was the final chapter I submitted before scrapping the original. The future is uncharted territory. And now I get to proceed with confidence in my writing and knowing that people are enjoying the story. I again would like to thank everyone for reading.


	26. Chapter 25

X Southeastern Lazuria, 4 months after the meteors X

While Darrett had not been one of Lazuria's economic hubs, it had been a sight of much war for as long as any soul could remember. On the western side of the city sat Fort Lazuria. This Fort had housed some of the countries greatest commanders, and had seen attacks from Wooden Warships, Ironclad, the first planes, and even modern bombers and battleships. But time and time again it was rebuilt, each time with new weapons and fortifications.

In the current time and age, it housed the civilian officials leading the provision government, as well as the military personal sworn to defend the recovering country.

Scowling Lazurian Special Forces soldiers patrolled the building inside and out. AA weapons, both static and mobile, was stationed to counter air raids from any given angle. In the shallow waters sat five heavy cruisers and the Lazurian navy's last remaining battleship.

Inside the vast halls, the legendary General Forsythe sat behind a desk hidden within the inner core of the building, reading detailed reports sent in from his forces. During the last Great War, Forsythe had come to command only the largest Lazurian armies. He had also been the hero to repel the final Rubinelle attack. But that had been nearly 20 years ago, and he was much older. Regardless, once having heard to the tragedies occurring, he had quickly put on his old uniform. The people of Lazuria needed him. And in truth, his life had been relatively uneventful since he had lost his wife of old age seven years ago.

He picked up another report and read through it. It was a detailed report from Tasha, one of his senior officers, on a successful air raid on the Rubinelle mainland. The report included casualties, suspected enemy casualties, arms and fuel consumption, and the details of the enemies reaction. He smiled. Despite her sometimes…'unprofessional' manner, she was certainly the most aggressive and skilled Air Force commander Forsythe had ever worked with.

Another report was from his other senior officer: Gage. Despite being a lowly artillery officer before the war, he had risen with surprising skill to an able commander. He particularly excelled in naval warfare. He read the details of how a destroyer squadron had successfully engaged and sunk two Rubinelle battleships, as well as a wave of A-10s coming to rescue them. The only casualty was one bomb having knocked the gun on a destroyer and killing nine sailors. He quickly scrawled a note with the names down so that their families, if they had any left, could be informed.

The next report was also satisfying: engineers had recovered some 47 KV-1 tanks. With its position in the northern hemisphere, Lazuria was generally cold all year around. Appropriately, Lazuria's machines of war were built to withstand such weather. Many of its war machines were also up north, in half buried bunkers or artificial lakes. Rubinelle weapons could barely operate in those conditions, so it was at little risk. In the event of a full-blown invasion, Lazuria would have plenty of force in reserve to strike back. But this policy was now working against them. When the sun disappeared, the northern areas had grown even colder. While men were adaptable, vehicles were not. Whole battleships had become encrusted in ice; whole underground vehicle pools were tightly sealed. At the end, it left Forsythe with a simple yet complex problem: He had thousands of loyal, determined, and skilled soldiers, pilots, and sailors, but no equipment for them. With those tanks though, he could form another division of armor; one that would be needed in a area under constant assault in the west.

The next report brought a deep frown to his face. For over two hundred years, legal ownership of several islands in the channel had been disputed. Even if one side technically owned the island, it really came down to the loyalty of the inhabitant. The Rubinelle Navy had shelled one such island mercilessly when the islanders supposedly sought to join the reforming Lazuria republic. His frown deepened when he saw the number of dead. Rubinelle had been a honorable nation all those years ago, but now they resorted to genocide. It simply baffled the General. Shaking his head, he pulled out a piece of paper to draft knew orders for a combat brigade currently resting up in the city.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Yes?" General Forsythe straightened up.

"Sir." One of the hefty Special Forces soldiers bowed respectfully. "There is someone here to see you."

"Let him in." Forsythe waved, mulling over who it could be; most of his subordinates were stationed in other areas. The man that entered the room, however, was far from a military officer. The very sight of the man sent a chill up Forsythe's spine. The man was tall and unnaturally pale. A white cloak behind the man largely shielded a black undershirt. Though the most unsettling feature, to Forsythe, was his face. It was gaunt with deep lines. His mouth seemed to be permanently formed into a slight smirk. It created a uneasy sensation in the General's gut. The sentries apparently felt the same way, judging by how they stayed in the office, their AKs held high.

"Ah, so I finally have the privilege of meeting the legendary General Forsythe." In truth, Forsythe had almost expected the hiss of a viper, but the mans voice seemed to contain only genuine curiosity and awe. Regardless, Forsythe remained defensive as he shook the man's pale hand.

"No need to be so formal. I am simply doing my job." Forsythe said. He man smile easily.

"Indeed you are general. Tell me, how is the war effort faring?" His voice did not depart from its curious tone. Forsythe stiffened. The guards by the door let out a low growl.

"Now see here, sir." Forsythe said defensively. "If you believe you can just come in here-"

"Ah, of course. How forgetful of me." The man interrupted. "I forgot to introduce myself." A hand went into his cloak. The guards raised their rifles and Forsythe's hand instinctively twitched to the revolver tucked into his belt. But the man's hand returned with nothing more lethal then a card. "I am Dr. Caulder, head of Intelligent Defense Systems." The guards lowered their weapons, albeit reluctantly. With equal reluctance, Forsythe took the card. It was real. Intelligent Defense Systems, the greatest weapons developer in the entire hemisphere. Forsythe remained calm, however.

"For what reason are you here sir?" Forsythe asked simply.

"Simple, General." Caulder seemed amused. "To supply your forces with the weapons they so desperate need." Forsythe missed his guard's reaction, for he was staring at the doctor with as much scrutiny as he could manage. Somehow, he could tell the man was not lying. On the other, he had equal cause to be suspicious; IDS sold weapons to both Lazuria AND Rubinelle.

"Why don't you have a seat, sir?" Forsythe motioned to a chair and resumed his original seat. Dr. Caulder sat down calmly. "For what reason do I have to believe you are genuine? As far as I can tell, IDS has no leader."

"There has been little reason for me to show myself in recent years, General." Dr. Caulder replied. Forsythe nodded; the pale skin seemed evidence enough. But still, something seemed off.

"Why have you come to us, and not Rubinelle?" Forsythe tried not to accuse the man. This was delicate territory; If the man was indeed a weapons manufacturer, the war's bleak prospects could brighten considerably.

The man again reached into his cloak, and this time removed several photographs. Forsythe looked at them. All of them shown men and women drabbed in a dull gray sprawled out in puddles of their own blood. "My staff and employees." Dr. Caulder explained. "Many of my facilities, ports, and factories have also been taken over. Rubinelle has been acting…contradictory to my desires from some time now. Forsythe nodded; such reasons were valid. Though the man's calm demeanor of the situation was strange, for Forsythe himself had spent many sleepless nights over the genocide witnessed.

"…I believe you, Dr. Caulder." Forsythe said after a moments thought. It was hard not too. Even though he admitted it, Forsythe could not erase a nagging feeling of distrust. "But what I have yet to see sir, is if you can keep these promises you make." All across the region, industrial capacity was still largely crippled. How could one man make up for all that and more? Dr. Caulder did not seem nervous or intimidated; his face still carried the slight sign of a smirk.

"Walk with me, General, I have something that may convince you." The notion immediately put Forsythe on edge. One of the guards quietly exited the office. Forsythe simply stared back at the man, looking for any signs that could put off his suspicion. He found none. The office door opened again, and this time a serious-faced Major entered with a vanilla folder under his arm. Alecsandr Polyakov, Forsythe's aid.

"Sir, there is someone you should see." The younger man whispered urgently into his ear. His eye's glanced towards the unusual man sitting in the chair.

"This is Dr. Caulder, head of Intelligent Defense Systems." Forsythe introduced his aid. The Major's eyes widen.

"So that's where…" He murmured. Forsythe pushed himself up.

"Well sir, it appears that there certainly is something I should see." He smoothed out his uniform and started for the door. Polyakov moved forward and opened it in advance. Outside, at least half a dozen Special Forces soldiers mulled around. They immediately formed a tight circle around Forsythe and his aid.

At the scientists raised eyebrow, a Private said, "The Rubes will use any tactic to damage us, even murder. We have to protect the General at _any_ cost." The other soldiers growled in agreement. Forsythe wished he could put his soldier's minds at ease, but he could not even put his own mind at ease. The Doctor however, seemed uninterested and simply began walking down the hallway towards the steps. Though he admitted it was necessary, Forsythe could not help but sometimes feel like a prisoner from all the guards assigned to protect him.

"Can we trust this man, General?" A soldier bowed his head respectfully.

"I am beginning to fear we may have no choice." One of Forsythe's policies was complete honesty with his troops; it was their right to know.

"He looks like a damn ghost, sir, pardon my language." His aid said.

"Even so, Major, he is believable." Forsythe tried to suppress a frown. Though he himself believed this man, and even though his opinion was well respected, could he make his subordinates trust this man?

The walked in relative silence until they reached a higher tower of the fort. The Snipers stationed up there did not outright acknowledge his, though several did click their boots as if in greeting. The hallway ended at a heavy steel ladder. Dr. Caulder ascended without any apparent difficulties, something Forsythe found remarkable considering the man was far from young; he appeared to be at least fifty. One of the soldiers climbed up to assist Forsythe when he climbed up. Forsythe thanked the soldier and straightened up. In his old age, most physical activity was very enduring. The men arming the AA missile battery saluted him. He saluted them back and turned to Caulder.

"Well now, what is up here that you require-" Forsythe stopped mid-sentence, words leaving him for the moment. In the cities harbor (as well as the surrounding water), nine large battleships floated in a orderly line. Forsythe knew for a fact they weren't the navies, because 1. the only recovered battleship was sitting some ways to the west, and 2. The ships were bigger then the normal class battleship that the Lazurian navy used. "Would someone happen to have a pair of binoculars?" Four pairs were thrust into his immediate vision. He took one and focused on the ship. They were very fine ships; 18 large caliber guns, and at least 20 AA guns. He was also sure he could see a helicopter launch pad. Forsythe wondered if such a vessel could still be classed as a battleship.

"All fit and able to be manned and sailed today, general." Forsythe lowered the binoculars as Caulder spoke. "I also have three aircraft carriers that should be nearing completion." Battleships and Carriers? By god, Forsythe thought, just those battleships alone could give the Rubinelle fleets a run for their money! "And that's not all." Caulder went on. "I can also supply fuel, food, and building supplies. And if it is of your interest, I can modernize your forces. Surely you will prefer BM-21 Grads to your old Katyushas? Or T-55s to replace your KV-1s? I can also provide upgrades to your air forces" The man dangled the offer in front of them.

Forsythe knew it was not a offer to turn down lightly. Those models were far more capable then the old models used. Some dated back to the last Great War! Such units filled the ranks of the military, but most of them were frozen up north. There weren't many anyway; the cost had slowed the process. The last thought stuck with him. "What will be the cost for all of this? We are very simple people, Mr. Caulder." Forsythe asked. The very idea a man would willingly give away billions of dollars worth of military equipment was laughable, many even senile.

"No cost at all, General. All of this will be free." He assured. Forsythe couldn't believe it.

"Why, sir? Why would you do this? There must be other reasons then your employees." If Forsythe could figure it out, he could put his mind at ease.

"Many reasons." Dr. Caulder said with a wave of his hand. "I wish to continue my work in peace."

"You invent weapons, yet you claim to want peace?"

"If not that, I simply want a safer world for my children." Caulder did not answer the question. Forsythe found himself nodded.

"I see…I had children of my own. I'm sorry to say they did not survive the catastrophe."

"I assure you General Forsythe, my intentions are pure." The pale man put his equally pale hand on his chest. "You are welcomed to turn down my aid if you wish."

Silence. Forsythe twisted the hairs of his mustache to buy some time. The evidence was right in front of him, but the whole deal seemed too perfect.

"If you have doubts, General, let me remind you I am but one old man; one of your men could kill me in a moment's notice." The idea of death did not seem to bother him. Forsythe decided that he could accept this mans offer. He was simply putting too much on the line for it to be a bluff. He extended his hand. The two men shook.

"We have a deal then?" Caulder's eyes seemed to glimmer. "Submit a list sir, and I shall supply you with the equipment the next week. Before I leave though, here." He pulled out a vanilla folder, similar to the one carried by the Major, and handed it to Forsythe. "A new prototype I've been working on. I have 23 old versions in stock if you would like them. I consider them obsolete, but you may find a use for them. I think I shall return to my shelter. You clearly need time to think." He left. Two soldiers followed him.

"…Sir?" His aid said uncertainly.

"Contact Commander Gage and Commander Tasha and have them return here at once." Forsythe ordered. "Also find out how many army division commanders can spend time away from their respected fronts."

"That's a bid risky, sir. All our officers together like that."

"It is a necessary risk." Forsythe began opening the folder. "What prototype could he be referring to?" He looked in the folder. "Great Chowder!" He exclaimed. His aid whistled softly. The Special Forces soldiers gave grunts of surprise.

"Well, 'War Tank' is a fitting title." The aid mused.

"Fitting, indeed." Forsythe closed the folder. His mind began formulating ways to use the massive tank. Many other ideas also began to appear for future movements, future offensives… "Gentlemen." Forsythe turned to all the men there to witness the event. "I think I can finally say with certainly that this is a war we can win." Cheers responded. Several hats went soaring into the air.

X Over the channel, 5 months after the meteors X

"Target area is five miles and closing. Assuming final approach for bombing run." The B-52s slowed their speed and began to descend slightly. The bomb bays opened.

"Copy that, we got yah covered." The Rubinelle fighter Captain glanced at the formation of bombers for a moment before during his attention front again. Aside from the six bombers, the Captains own squadron flew in perfect formation. Another fighter squadron cruised on the other side of the bomber formation. In front, a squadron of F-18s and A-10s, both launched from the 2nd NRA fleet Carrier _Odin_, flew in equal neatness as the skirmishers. The Captain snorted quietly. The navy had no need to be here; air superiority had been established over this region months ago. His squadron alone could defend the bombers!

To distract himself, another pilot began quietly whistling over the radio. Then another pilot joined, and then another. Before long, even the bomber crews were singing along. The Captain faintly heard the hard-assed bitch that lead the F-18 squadron scold him. He laughed it off.

Peace turned to chaos in an instant.

At the same moment the Lazurian mainland came into view, so did the fighters. The naval squadrons were quick enough to scatter. The air force squadrons were not. The MiGs charged straight through, guns blazing as the aircraft gracefully dodged the oncoming fighters. Five aircraft burst into flames and fell into the ocean. Two wobbled along dangerously before breaking apart. "Fuck!" The Captain swore and pulled on the stick hard and swung his fighter around to pursue. Where the hell hadd those fighters come from?

"Ten more coming!" A navy pilot yelled. The A-10s had split, and were getting the hell out of dodge as fast as they could. Half of the F-18s followed, where as the other half changed course. A blaring tone alerted the Captain he had been locked on and he rolled the fighter several times.

"Get the hell out of here!" He yelled to the bombers.

"Negative!" They shot back.

"What the fuck do you mean 'negative'?" The Captain pulled in behind one the MiGs, only to grunt in surprise when it did a hard role.

"We're going down anyway, might as well do what we came here to do." He said plainly. A true soldier does not make false promises or unrealistic judgments. Even as the Captain started to fire his gun, he realized he would not live through this dogfight.

"Keep formation, increase speed." The bombers went largely ignored by the first wave. The second was more attentive. A missile smashed into the front cockpit of one of the massive planes. If hit the water and flipped before coming down heavily. It sunk almost immediately.

Five bombers left.

"Got two of them on us!" Two fighters had broken away to shoot them down. Both fired mercilessly at one of the bombers as the flight finally reached the mainland.

"2 miles to target." The targeted bomber's wings broke off, sending the body spiraling into the pine trees.

Four left.

A hail of missiles rose from the tree line. Another B-52 went down in fire.

And then there were three.

Another bomber fell to relentless assault from the fighters.

Two.

"Targets in visual range! Prepare to drop!" The bombers decreased altitude sharply in a effort to confuse the fighters. Tracer rounds erupted from the trees below as the fighters broke off again. The AA rounds reduced one of the B-52s to ruin. Its left wing broke off, causing it to drift to the right and out of the target area.

One.

"Keep flying damnit!" The pilot put whatever power was left into the charge. "We can still drop our load, we have to- A 20mm round found the plane's bomb rack. Mercifully, the crew onboard the final bomber did notice the explosion that took their lives. The sheer force of the internal detonation blew every bolted panel at least a mile away. Now no more then a giant, flaming missile, the bomber soared right over the base it had been targeting.

The Lazurian soldiers scattered, seeking whatever shelter they could hope would protect them from the burning, shrieking mass. It passed by just barely above the installation. Soldiers screamed as the heat wave hit them. In the motor pool, many of the rubber tires on the trucks and jeeps melted. The bomber was gone a second later as it crashed into the woods. The metal, already weakened by heat, crumpled like paper. By the mass came to a stop, it resembled nothing more then a heap of burning logs.

Back at the base, men were climbing out of their hiding places. Some chugged from their canteens, others stripped their uniforms to take in more of the north's cold temperatures. That had been far closer then they anticipated.

"Casualties?" The regional commander emerged, looking around for any sign of damage. He was relieved to find none of his men had been injured. They'd have to extinguish that fire quickly though. "Report?" He called into his radio.

"Developing." The Captain replied. A blaring noise in the background cut out most of his voice. The commander waited tensely.

"Report?"

"Developing."

"Report?" The commandeered demanded again. Silence. Then…

"Success. Enemy escort wiped out. Several naval planes escaped, however." The Captain sounded hesitant.

"Never mind." The Captain dismissed the news. "We have succeeded in defending the base." All the men within hearing range cheered. The commander switched to a different channel, one more guarded. "Operation successful." The commander reported. "Say again, area is secure and under our control." His lips formed into a smile. "It's time to go on the offensive.

X

In what many would call unexpected, the fighting over the next few months was the most savage ever seen in the hemisphere, even if the men involved were barely 8% of the numbers that had brawled during the Great War.

Lazuria had simply come out swinging. Within one month, their homeland was secure. Within two, they were already going on the offensive. By the fourth month, the tide had gone from Rubinelle back to the middle.

For reasons that baffled even Rubinelle's best intelligence officers, the Lazurians simply start deploying modern weapons in large quantities. What also baffled them, and angered many, were clear intelligence that showed that Lazurian troop counts were _lower_ then Rubinelle. And yet victory after victory they scored.

The Rubinelle units already deployed had fought hard against the surprise comeback. But while displaying their unnatural valor, each battle only brought more loss of territory. More and more units were deployed from the mainland. Greyfield had issued explicit orders: fight to the last man for every inch of territory. Though not popularly received by many, the NRA carried them out with as much strength as they could. In the end, they lost many gains, but at the same time inflicted mass casualties.

But the war had hit a stalemate. And each day more men from both sides died with nothing to show. Morale was beginning to decrease amongst front line troops. But for a certain Admiral, it caused anger.

X Presidential mansion, Rubinelle Capital. 9 Months after the meteors X

Plates and bowls filled with some of the most rationed 'luxury' food in Rubinelle sat on the table inside the large dining room. However, few sitting around it were hungry. In fact, many would rather be in the field then here. Admiral Greyfield sat at one of the ends of the table, his screwed up is displeasure as he stared at the other people seated. While he was supreme commander of all military forces, individually commanding them was a task too low for him. Instead, he had subordinates to do it for him.

On the right side of the table, sat Allen Hamilton, Benny Ryman, and Kurt Morado, the Captains in command of the NRA 1st, 2nd, and 3rd naval fleets respectively. While there were six other 'fleets', they had lost the honor of the title along with their capital ships, while the main three fleets were still the most combat capable.

On the other side of the table sat three more individuals. The first was Alisa Brann. The women's eyes were dark from the loss of sleep owing to the large amount of Rubinelle marines lost in the channel fighting.

Next to her sat a man in his early 50s. Gordon Stanhope. The former Army Lieutenant General now led all former army units in service. Like the fellow commander, his body showed signs of stress; many of his own men had been lost in fighting within a environment they were not properly trained for.

The last man was Shane Kealey. The former Army Colonel's stress came from the source of disobedience rather then combat losses. He was in charge of the 'militia' forces. A more appropriate name would've been bandits and bloodhounds. Its composition was primarily of freed criminals or court marshaled soldiers. While they were only equipped with rifles and maybe a few trucks, their refusal to follow conventional rules of war allowed them to be particularly brutal; their kill counts usually rivaled any profession offensive. Kealey was the 'head' of this force, but the title was only for paper; he had next to no influence over the unit. And yet, Greyfield saw them as vital, often sending them to the most turbulent battlefields.

At the other end of the table, directly opposite of Greyfield, sat Waylon. No one could say how, but Greyfield had, above all other choices, appointed Waylon the commander of NRA air forces. He did not even act with the title; he had a unaccredited sap below him to do it. All he did was party and over indulge on rationed goods. And, on occasion, requisition other units for battles when he got bored. It was no mystery why he was unliked by most of the officers present.

"Davis." Greyfield held up a hand. Davis, his aid, slunk up and handed Greyfield a folder. The younger officer was quite jittery, but at the same time a pushover. Perfect for Greyfield. "This-" Greyfield held up the folder so everyone could see it. "Is unacceptable!" He tossed the file at Brann. The file passed around the table, even though each officer already had guessed its contents. "We keep being beaten by these lower beings! Unacceptable!" He repeated. His swung around on his meaty neck. "Our control of the channel is weakening." He turned to the Captains. "Why?" He demanded, banging a fist on the table to make a point.

"For a lack of better words, the Lazurians pulled several fleets of submarines out their asses." Captain Morado said. "Single ship operations are too dangerous now; there is security only in numbers. But it also limits our reaction ranges. The enemy can attack and sail off before the fleets arrive.

"Anti-Submarine operations have been active for some times, with positive results." Captain Hamilton stated. Indeed, the Rubinelle submarine fleet had been very effective, though the danger level was still far too high.

"The bastards are putting our own measures against us." Captain Ryman sat up. "They find where the groups are and initiate large scale confrontations. Real ugly stuff. Hell, Hamilton didn't lose a ship till they started doing that." If he noticed the glare the formerly mentioned was giving him, he did not show it.

"Progress is being made in our efforts to control the sea." Then, Hamilton said boldly, it will be some months before the effects can be seen." Greyfield's face turned purple. He was not a patient man, nor was he appreciative of anyone suggesting patience. He instead swung to the other side of the table. He opened his mouth, only to be interrupting by a loud wailing sound. Waylon looked up from the chicken he was nibbling on.

"Uh oh." He Captain looked up. Two marines burst into the room.

"Air raid! Everyone get down!" One was waving. Chairs were discarded as the assembled staff ducked and covered their heads. Greyfield, however resisted.

"Preposterous! They cannot possibly have-" Somewhere a bomb exploded. The room shook, as if mocking him.

"Sir, get _down._" The Marine's urged, using themselves to shield Greyfield from any possible falling debris. It certainly sounded lively out there.

"Unacceptable!" Greyfield had to yell to be heard. "How did they reach the city? I will have the person responsible h-" A bomb going off cut off his sentence. A chandelier crushed the center of the table, as well as most of the food. There was a roar as fighter jets raced by outside. It was two minutes before the fighting ceased. The marines stood up.

"What's going on out there?" One called into his radio.

"Air supremacy re-established." The voice replied. The staff in charge of the NRA stood up. Greyfield glared angrily at Brann and Stanhope.

"We're suffering from equipment shortages, sir." Brann stood to her full height. "Our air craft have been shot down and most our AA equipment has been destroyed. Most of our tanks did not survive the fighting in the channel."

"Same problem with the army." Stanhope piped. "Got plenty of men with rifles, just not many tanks or artillery."

"So…we do not have enough machines…" Greyfield said thoughtfully.

"Nor men to operate them." Stanhope added. Waylon, who had since been munching on a turkey stick, looked up. An idea popped into his head. Grinning he slunk over to where Greyfield was.

"Brotha man! I think I know a solution to your problem!" Waylon said, putting a arm on Greyfield's shoulder. The rest of the staff gave him skeptical looks. "When I was on my way here, I happened to run into a couple folks doing charity work back east. 12th Battalion, or something."

"Brenner's wolves?" Stanhope said, his tone hopeful.

"Yeah." Waylon nodded. "Captain courageous and his cabin boy, going around gathering everybody they can find. Talkin 'bout returning the world to normal. The man has everything! Tanks, artillery, AA. He had some leathernecks with him too. Shoot, some of my own pilots choose to stay with him. A helicopter, a few fighter jets, and two fine pieces of ass!"

Greyfield stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Yes…yes…we can't have rouge forces operating. They must come here at once!" He declared. "Good job!" He shook Waylon's hand. "Davis!" He called, swinging around to find his aid. The young man's hat poked out from under the table. "Come here now!" He ordered.

"Do you have any idea on their exact numbers?" Stanhope asked. "They're a light tank battalion."

"Hell, I don't know." Waylon shrugged, now uninterested. "Maybe two hundred marines, maybe forty tanks. I think I'll go see what the noise is about." He started walking out the dining room. He never had had much like for formal business.

"Two hundred men could be useful." Brann mused. Greyfield kept the best units on home defense. So even though there had to be at least 20,00 Marines, at least half of them were forbidden from fighting on the front line.

"The 12th has a good track record. I would certainly enjoy working with them." Stanhope nodded.

"Gather your men and set out immediately. I expect you back by next month. I will NOT tolerate failure!" Greyfield added threateningly. Davis stumbled out of the room. "I have ordered him to take a expedition to find these…Wolves of Brenner." Greyfield explained. "In the meantime, I demand progress from all of you! We have been losing for far to long." The Captains nodded and left the room, eager to return to the seas. Stanhope, meanwhile, went to go search the records for information of the 12th Battalion. Brann also went to see what Marine units were stationed around that general area. This left Greyfield alone. "Soon." He murmured to himself. "My time is coming."

XX Author's note XX

An update so fast? Consider it compensation for taking so long with the last. And if you find the time skip cheap, don't. I will cover this NRA-Lazurian war in great detail with the other two stories of the trilogy. And now on to another matter: OCs. This is the final chapter I will accept 12th Battalion OCs from. Also, I am grateful for the various characters that have been submitted, but only one person has so far submitted actual units. One character can do a lot, but I could work a lot more with units like ships or aircraft squadrons. Just a reminder to any reader considering leaving a OC.

Leave a review on your way out if you have to time with questions, OCs, or suggestions.


	27. Chapter 26

X With James X

"Go! Go! Go!" Nearly fifty pairs of boots pounded on the smooth tile floor. The door to outside loomed in front of us. We did not even slow down as we stepped into the twilight; we kept a speedy pace towards the helicopters. They shifted as everyone climbed up the ramp and neatly arranged themselves evenly on both sides. There was one big simultaneous 'click' as weapons were shifted from their safeties. We were ready. But… "To damn slow!" A voice yelled.

The air of focus crashed in ruins and all the privates began muttering. "Not good enough!" Sgt. Anderson repeated, appearing at the bottom of the ramp. He went off to yell the same thing to the other helicopter.

"That's the 5th time!" A private complained.

"7th, Steve." One corrected.

"Out! Disembark!" Sgt. Anderson ordered. We all shuffled down the ramp and formed up in an orderly line. The second group, formed five months ago mostly from civilian volunteers and rescued coast guard rescue crews, lined up under Sgt. Anderson's stare. Sgt. Anson commanded our helicopter, Sgt. Anderson the other one. Each was equally distributed in terms of men and weapons. "When the hell did everyone become so slow?" Sgt. Anderson demanded, speaking to both groups. "We are rapid deployment, you know what that means?" It was a trick question; no one raised a hand. "We have to be _fast_ goddamnit!" Sgt. Anderson yelled. "This isn't fast enough! You expect a enemy to wait? No! They'll shoot you in the ass and laugh. Speed people. Speed!" He repeated. Everyone stood straight and silent. Sgt. Anderson paced up and down the assembled platoons and then said gruffly. "Dismissed for breakfast. And then we do it again!" The lines dispersed.

"Holy hell, feels like right back at base, huh?" Sam jogged up to me. While the second helicopter was made primarily of the newer people, some members had been transferred, Sam and Peter among them.

"This is our forward operating base now." I reminded him. "_As well as our only home." _

"Eh." Sam shrugged in disinterest. Mildly surprising was the fact Sam was still here at all, considering quite a few soldiers had chosen to retire early. But here he was. He was a good guy at heart, I supposed. I heard him snicker and looked up.

"Are you gonna try and tell me again?" I asked.

"Nah, you don't believe it, so it's just a waste of breath." He rolled his eyes.

_"Childish."_ I thought inwardly. Up ahead, Peter and Helen walked side by side. The girl had, against my expectations, become a damn good medic, surpassing me even! I suppose with her compassionate attitude, the role just fit. Being the only two medics in the group, and thus being in charge of all medical supplies, was a big job. Sam, though, insisted it was more then just business because of how much they seemed to be together. I personally thought he was jumping to conclusions. Medicine was very thorough; she was still in training. Besides, Peter and me were both professional. Relationships weren't allowed in the military, and we both took our jobs seriously. Even on the off chance it was true, was it our business? A man's private life was his and his alone.

"One. Two. Three." As we walked towards the large gate into the shelter, I momentarily observed a group of Rangers doings drills. I smiled. We settled into the shelter for a while now, but I'd long since lost track of the days. But the whole time, more people came in.

The shelter had its own broadcast facilities, so we had sent out messages in a attempt to draw civilians and other military units to the shelter. It had worked; our numbers had swelled. Sadly, not many civilians had come in, maybe upwards of two hundred. They just couldn't survive or make the journey…

A large number of soldiers, however, had been coming in periodically. Tanks, infantry, a few artillery groups, and even a few aircraft had shown up. With a place to organize in, Brenner's Wolves had reformed itself into an able, numerous, and orderly fighting force again, with everyone organized with jobs and orders on who to support. The lines between branches had blurred. Soldiers no longer identified themselves with their branch or previous unit. Many simply referred to themselves as wolves now. It was unity, and it only made us stronger. Though no serious combat had broken out, we could meet it with guns raised, be it on land, air, or sea.

We even had a naval corps…sort of, anyway. About 40 miles to our north, was a small town. In that town was a commercial port, with now housed naval craft. On our first visit there, we had learned that it was being using by surviving navy ships. And so a deal was born: we would help them get food, and they would help our rescue efforts. Some of the rescued personnel had simply opted to live at the shelter, like the second helicopter. Our 'navy' wasn't much anyway; just four gunboats and a destroyer. But as far as search and rescue went, they all worked together in harmony.

But at the same time, the effort on both sides became less and less effective. We sent out our own search parties, but nothing came back. The last group of soldiers had to have arrived had been maybe two months ago. No one since then. Without a stream of constant supplies like ours, how could someone hope to survive? There was no way to restore stockpiles, not with the sun gone. By now most survivors had either perished or found a stable production source. That also meant that anyone who was coming had already done so.

But that was a pessimist's way of thinking. There could still be people out there, and we'd find them, even if we had to go to the ends of the earth.

X With Tim X

A year. A whole fucking year. At least it felt like a year, anyway; I had no honest way of telling.

I yawned and sat up, wincing as a few sharp pebbles stayed embedded in my back. Sarah groaned at the movement but didn't wake. After throwing off the small blanket, I carefully removed her arm from across my chest to stand up and stretch, brushing off all the dirt at the same time. _"Why the fuck do I always sleep outside again?" _Sarah groaned at the loss of heat. _"Oh yeah, it's always her idea."_ I draped the blanket back over her and yawned.

I walked a short distance to the edge of the cliff and unzipped my pants. _"Damn, that feels good."_ I glanced over the edge at the out-of-place object at the bottom of the gorge. I didn't know who had made that B-52, but after all this time it still hadn't rusted or broken down, so it just sat where it had come to a stop. Whole thing was a reminder to what happened. I zipped my pants up and, after a moments thought, spat down the gorge. When I got back, Sarah was turning uncomfortably on the ground.

"Damnit, why'd you'd have to move" The blanket muffled the question.

"You have to get up and pee most mornings too." I pointed out. "Double standards."

"Yeah, deal with it." She sat up and yawned. "We should probably just move a mattress out here, since we sleep out here more then in the shelter." She scratched her back. It was true; we did sleep outside a lot. I owned the reason to the fact that the shelter was far more crowded then any base had been, and the fact at least we could sleep together outside. It wasn't actually that cold if you had someone to share body heat with.

"Or just start sleeping in a building." I glanced towards the town. Most people just lived in the shelter, though a couple of soldiers slept there. The town was mostly storage now; The planes made use of the cleared land as a landing strip, and most of the vehicles were parked in there too, gathering dust.

I honestly had no idea how I could stand it, but somehow I'd managed to go this long without blowing shit up. Fuel was short, and no immediate threats were present, so all fuel was reserved for units conducting search and rescue. Every combat helicopter? Grounded. Every fighter? Grounded. The two bombers we'd let those kids bring up here? Grounded. Every tank? Empty gas tank. I could go on. The point was: Things. Were. Fucking. Fucking…Fucking… Dull.

So why was I still here? Why did I still wear this uniform? No one was a prisoner; if you asked, they'd give you a weeks worth of food and gas and let you loose. And yet, no one had. Hell, I'd barely considered it! I wasn't sure why though.

_"Hell…it ain't that bad here."_ There was food, shelter, and safety (Although, I could provide the latter on my own). The people weren't that bad to hang around. If I'd thought that a year ago, I'd think I'd gone mad. Yet, here it was. More and more I was starting to think that Sarah's personality change was rubbing off on me. I was more willing to 'trust the world' as she put it. Course, that didn't mean I'd become a complete pussy; I still acted like I did, had to in order to survive. Still, I suppose it could've been said my fuse had grown longer.

My stomach rumbled loudly. _"Damn, I'm hungry."_ I realized. "If you need to piss, hurry up. I'm starving." Sarah shoved me as she pushed past.

"Yeah, yeah. Stand guard for me." Then she added sarcastically, "I'm sure you're dying to see the kids."

"Woman, I hate those people. I still don't think they deserve the title of a pilot." I snorted.

"Whatever you say." She laughed.

"Bitch." I muttered back. A pebble hit the back of my head. "Ow."

X With James X

I quietly ate my breakfast, only turning half an ear to the conversations around them. I could barely hear myself chew over the noise of the mess hall. Despite its massive size, several facilities weren't really built to reflect that. As a result, all meals had to be served to three different groups before everyone had eaten. It took nearly two hours to feed everyone. It really was a technological marvel one building could do all that.

Despite the previously mentioned unity, the lunch room was mostly divided by role then anything else: Army infantry sat in one part, Marine infantry in another, tank crews in another, and so on and so forth. Despite the closeness, most people didn't do much socializing outside their own 'type'.

I froze for a moment as I caught a reflection of my face on the tray. Though the last battle had been long ago, many traces remained, both on the earth, and on people. When the bomber had crashed, it had destroyed a lot of buildings and sent debris flying. Though I had no recollection of the exact moment, one chunk had struck me in the face. The result? My jaw was permanently displaced, making my face look a bit weird. Though luckily, it didn't affect my speech. On the other hand, my face war scared. A noticeable scar traced its way above and below my left eye. When I closed it, the whole scar became apparent. Closing my eyes when the crash happened was the only reason I hadn't lost one.

"Final census came in." Sgt. Anderson announced. Everyone perked his or her ears up. The last few weeks had been spent trying to find out exactly how many people were here; it was part of our reorganization effort. Sgt. Anderson cleared his throat. "There are approximately 497 civilians. Troop counts equal roughly 1400, counting both combat and support personnel. 397 personnel are currently with the naval units. Current Air Wing staff is exactly 32 enlisted. Currently, 102 people are assigned to artillery, while 86 to AA duties. 308 people are assigned to the armor companies, and finally, about 600 infantry personnel, 300 of which are assigned to support the tanks in active combat, other three hundred are special purpose: Marines, us, stuff like that. The remaining folk work in logistics and communication." He turned a page.

"That's about 2000 people, ain't it?" I heard a private whisper. I frowned. What was the capacity of this shelter? We didn't exactly gorge ourselves, but the food was filling enough.

"Vehicle count." Sgt. Anderson went on. "52 tanks; 34 light tanks, 17 Medium tanks, and a War Tank."

"Thank god for that." Sam raised his canteen. Agreement went up all over the title. While our first attempt to salvage the massive machine had failed, we hadn't given up. After much more thought and preparation, we brought it up to the shelter for evaluation and refitting. What were our expert's opinions? Unfit for large, open combat. But no such combat would be seen again for a long time, so we assimilated it in to the Wolves just like any other unit. While not combat tested, it certainly was popular with soldiers.

"9 APCs and 49 armored Humvees." Sgt. Anderson went on. "9 towered artillery pieces, 5 MRS', 14 mobile AA tanks, and 6 AA missile trucks. Enough for one hell of a defensive net." He said to himself. "4 Anti-tank guns are also in service. In the naval corps, we have 1 destroyer and 4 operational gunboats. 4 more gunboats are in reserve, with their crews residing in the shelter. Air Wing count: 3 attack helicopters, and 4 transport helicopters, two to our company, one to support Marine operatives, and one for utility. Fixed wing aircraft: 5 fighter jets, 2 A-1 Sky Raiders, and 2 B-52 bombers. Not much of a aviation brigade." He commented and threw the report on the table. I did the math in my head.

All in all, the composition certainly gave us very wide operation ability; we were nearly as diverse as a division. _"Not that we'll really get a chance to see."_ I thought. Law and order must've implanted itself elsewhere after all this time. The world had to be at peace for the most part.

"Everyone needs to prepare; we're going on another five day search and rescue mission." Sgt. Anson announced. Everyone shifted, but did not verbally respond. Owing to our unique training, our company was heavily used in the daily efforts. While the mission got us much respect and gratitude, it really picked at our morale and energy. It was always the same: we'd pack a few days worth of food, fly out to a area and stay there for a couple of days to find survivors. But all we usually found were skeletons…

_"Cause they're all dead."_ I shook the voice of doubt for my mind, but it persisted slightly. People had counted on soldiers to help them for a long time. Could they survive on their own? The civilians here in the shelter had survived. Our unit was mostly former civilians. Hopefully the rest were equally capable.

"That reminds me, what's are fuel situation?" Sgt. Anderson addressed the supply officer sitting towards the end of the table.

"Plenty of food and fuel stockpiled." He replied. "If I had to bet, we could fly all the way to Lazuria and back. Twice."

"No need for that, not now." Sgt. Anderson shook his head. Lazuria…the thought had become quite uncommon. "Anyway, you all heard Riley. Be prepared."

X With Tim X

I edged irritably around a group of passing soldiers. I didn't know if this was considered over crowded by usual standards, but it was too damn much for me. The mess hall was even worse. Hundreds of loud, annoying, voices discussing some of the stupidest stuff imaginable. _"It's worse then the damn orphanage."_ How did these people stand it? Luckily, the pilot table wasn't that far away (I wasn't going to wait in a fucking 2 hour line to get food). Kim greeted us like always. Eddie waved a hand in greeting.

I thought that they would've matured since things settled down. Not so much. _"How the fuck do the manage?"_ The world was destroyed; there was misery everywhere, yet Kim still managed that perky, annoyingly optimistic view. I was beginning to think it was weakness: a way to avoid the reality that the world was trash. The idea someone could be that ignorant annoyed me to no end.

Eddie, well… Progress had been made, I suppose. Kid was still weak though, which also annoyed me. No matter what, my views hadn't changed; there was still no room for the weak, and he was weak. Though at least he didn't stutter now, and actually talked. As for anything in between the two, nada. Sarah had been trying too, despite my insistence, to push them together. I personally didn't see what was motivating her. Women, good luck explaining them.

"Hey man! Slept outside again?" A voice said rapidly in my right ear. On my left, Sarah quietly snorted and turned her head.

"You know Dominic, that's starting to get real fucking annoying." I replied.

"Shit man, I'm just trying to find your angle. You're a odd ball." He flopped down in the seat. I growled under my breath, trying to prevent my hand from instinctively curling into fist. The Air Wing had seen a bit of expansion since we'd been here. Dominic was one of them, a Sky Raider pilot from some reserve squadron based god knows where. I swore, this guy had ADD, split personality disorder, or some other shitty mental problem. He actually could be a decent guy to hang around, but half the time he was jumpy, talkative, and for some reason enjoyed pranks. Sometimes, it was hard to believe he was almost 23. Talk about fucked up. He'd also single-handedly turned the female population against him within a week of arriving. Guy deserved credit; it took me a few months to do that at the orphanage.

He wasn't the only new guy; the dark skinned girl sitting a few seats down had also shown up a few months ago on her own. Lucretia (or Louise, because most of us hadn't a fucking clue how to pronounce it) was a fighter pilot. Eh, decent girl I guess. She was about Kim's age, though rather then entering a special program; she'd just joined straight out of High School. Didn't much interact; she was too damn quiet, always observing everything. I could never really relate to plane pilots. Helicopter pilots, on the other hand, I could relate too. And we had 4 new ones to man the two other attack copters.

The first 2 were Lance and Sofia, brother and sister, pilots of Buzzard 7. Personally, I just found them nondescript; there wasn't anything really much special about them. I'd talked to them a few times, but I was pretty sure they didn't like us.

The last two were Jessie and Darren. Now these Motherfuckers, they were all right! I actually could say I liked these guys; Sarah could stand them pretty well too. We were actually pretty alike: They fought for the thrill of combat, they accepted war and death for what it is, and they talked about partying a lot. Not that they'd had an opportunity to visibly show them, but they made their stances known vocally.

The rest of the old crew was still serving. Those kids that operated the bombers were still all there. I'd interacted with a few of them. They weren't really the kind to take charge, instead obeying instructions like mindless sheep. A couple of them had a few funny jokes, did a few interesting stunts, but nothing to really warrant my attention. That was the way it was with everyone: they kept to themselves and awkwardly avoided each other day after fucking day. It wasn't easy staying together like this.

Dealt with a couple of them though. That girl Jane, she and Sarah were pretty close. I mostly avoided her to avoid any awkwardness, though I had come to respect her at least some.

Then there was that brat still. He was really no more then a thorn in everyone's side, being difficult everywhere just for the hell of it. It didn't really bother me; due to Sarah's fist, he pretty much avoided Kim and us.

Then there was that bitch Clarissa…

Whom I'd come to pity.

Surprised? So was I. The revelation started right after we settled down. She started being a bitch to pretty much anyone who wasn't an officer. Though I noticed soon after that she actually was being nice to some of the other crewmembers. Then about two months ago, I'd got up in the middle of the night for a piss, and when passing her cot (due to space limitations, unit bunking was gender integrated, much to some people's disapproval), and I heard a muffled sob. That bitch was just insecure. I'd seen the same damn thing at the orphanage.

The last year had caused me to realize without a doubt that the military always attracted all the fucked up people. Did the prospect of violence act as a way to cope? I was insulting myself there, but I'd honestly thought about it. While I didn't know the answer to that, I had come to realize something recent had made me seriously embrace this philosophy bullshit.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Honestly, I had come to doubt myself. It was like being around this people just made my brain work differently. I would've shared all of this with Sarah, but she didn't want to hear anything relating to Clarissa, since Clarissa had crossed the line a few months ago.

I'd never told Sarah out of respect, but she wasn't as good at hiding her problem as she thought. It never had been an issue. At the base, Kim was the only one who could've noticed, and she'd been too naïve to figure it out. When we were traveling, no one really had time to notice. Here? With a set place and an actual female population? It only took a month. And being a bitch, Clarissa had boldly pointed it out in front of all the other girls.

You'd think Sarah had been processed by how much damage she did in such a short time. I have no doubt in my mind the only reason that girl was alive was because Jessie and me had dragged her off. Sarah had been pissed beyond anything I'd ever seen. She said she hadn't made her point. Tell that to whoever cleaned up the blood. Sarah had begun insisting on sleeping outside after that. The whole thing had shaken her, even if none of the girls knew there was a deeper cause.

Stone had been 'disappointed', so he said. He'd gone on about unity and how we should interact. The only way we'd interact is if we fought together, and that wasn't going to happen, unfortunately. As fucked up as things were, I still couldn't figure out why I was here. Wasn't the saying 'only you know yourself'? There went that philosophy bullshit again…

The line was getting shorter and Sarah and me excused ourselves to get food. Things were bearable now, but I knew that it couldn't last forever.

X The Rubinelle Coast Line X

The gunboat was easily the most versatile naval craft around. It was equipped with a total of 6 silos, and carried upwards of 54 rounds that could be fired as fast as the crew could load. Aside from that, a machine gun manned on the very front gave extra combat efficiency and even minor anti-air protection. There was also plenty of spare room for a squad of soldiers or, if the situation called for it, submarine mines. While not hard hitting, a pack could sink the mightiest battleships. Numbers though, was something the 12th Battalion lacked.

The Coast Guard gunboat _Lemur_ cruised smoothly over the calm but murky waters that lapped at the equally dirty coasts of Rubinelle. The coast was full of islands, usually owed by resort companies, filthy rich people, or the military. But now any structures were decaying, and some had already collapsed.

Captain Clark quietly stood in the back, watching the islands for any sign of change or life, just like any other day. As the boat rounded an island, another gunboat raced by, cutting so close to the island the Captain was amazed it didn't fly up on the beach. He grabbed the radio. "Damn Jacoby," Clark remarked as the gunboat _Stryker _rounded the island. "You're gonna run aground one of these days."

"Boldness is what defines the commander." A voice called back. Clark chuckled.

"Keep the radio clear fellas, we're working here." A female voice broke in.

"Sorry Ms. Davenport." Captain Jacoby respectfully replied to the Captain of the Destroyer _Typhoon_. "Just trying to keep it lively down here."

"We don't need lively, we need focus."

"Right, right, sorry." The _Stryker_ turned and sped between two small, un-cultivated islands. Clark shook his head. These islands were dead; they had been since he arrived nearly 10 months ago. There was nothing out here.

X Further down the coast X

"TAKE COVER!" The explosion of a shell from the Lazurian cruiser currently hammering the beach drowned the Marine's warning out.

"Not good, not good, not good." Davis was on the verge of complete panic. While moving along the coast, the expedition had come under sudden attack by a small number of Lazurians. However, the attack had been swift, destroying all naval vessels but one landing craft, though not through lack of trying. The small force of Marines was trapped on an island and under merciless shelling.

"Nothing to worry sir, we're trained for this." The Marine Captain assured. Always resourceful, the Marine's had dug a trench with amazing speed and used it to escape harm. Some had also boldly taken shelter within the crashed remains of a Lazurian Hind that had launched and failed to inflict any casualties.

"Just-just get on the radio!" Davis stammered. "Contact an air base or something!" A shell landed nearby and exploded, blowing sand onto their heads.

"Radioman's been trying sir, we're too far from home now. I wonder what those blue bastards are doing out here." He risked a look over the edge.

"Sir! I think I have something!" The radio op called. The two men crawled over to the portable radio. The Marine Captain grabbed it.

"Requesting support! Repeat, in need of dire support! Lazurian forces are threatening to over run us." He waited. Static buzzed annoyingly at him before a voice broke through.

"This is the Destroyer _Typhoon_, state your last." The voice was female. The Captain grinned. A destroyer? Hell, that could take out the cruiser and save their asses.

"1st NRA expeditionary force. We're under Lazurian naval attack. Requesting immediate support!" There wasn't a immediate response, much to the Captain's annoyance.

"State you unit again." The voice said at last. The Captain sat baffled before realizing he'd identified himself with the New Rubinelle Army; any units to survive wouldn't have gotten the memo.

"1st Marine expeditionary force." He yelled over the bombs. "We need support!" The Captain looked up. "Someone give me a damn landmark!"

"There's a casino on the other island, sir!" A young private yelled back. "Names gone, but the logo is seven stars arranged in a circle!" The Captain replayed the bland tip back to the Destroyer.

"Copy, we know the area. Two gunboats are being dispatched. Rest will follow shortly."

"Thank you kindly." The Captain nodded. "Can't believe the navy has a life line out here." He muttered to himself. Davis reached forward and grabbed the radio.

"Hey! Is- is this the 12th Battalion?" The Marine Captain looked dumbly at him. Last he heard they were searching for a tank battalion on land, not a navy squadron.

But the voice replied, "Yes, we're part of their naval corps. I'm contacting their base now. Their quick reaction forces will arrive shortly." Davis sighed in relief. He then shrieked in terror as another shell landed.

"Looks like we found them, sir." The Marine Captain said.

"Yeah, I just hope they get here quick." Davis said weekly.

X

"Keep on the work! They will soon know true terror." The Captain of the Heavy Destroyer stood firm, watching as the ship fired at the trenched where the dogs were hiding.

At the moment, the Captain was swelled with pride. Not only was he hunting down dogs, but also he was doing so under the watchful eye of Commander Tasha. Earlier, the very honored (and notorious for throwing out promotions) NLAF General had stopped by the observe defenses in the region. While the Captain had made the small force under his command prepare vigorously for good show, this battle would do so much better for his career. "All is going well, Commander. They will be dead within the hour." He assured her over the radio, turning once again to watch the shelling.

"Enemy vessels approaching!" The Captain's blood ran cold.

"What?" He demanded, going over to the sailor's station. "We destroyed their naval forces!"

"They're survivors Captain, from before the meteors." The Captain wondered how anyone could survive out here. Could the Rubes have a massive military base out here in reserve?

"Pattern indicated they are gunboats, Captain." He snapped out of his trance. Gunboats, though small, were very dangerous.

"Reassign all guns!" He ordered. "Sink them!" He paced threateningly towards a viewpoint. They appeared in his sight, approaching fast in a zigzag pattern. The water around them exploded, but the gunboats paid no mind, still charging. Sweat rolled down the Captain's face. "Sink them!" He ordered hoarsely. He wondered where the hell his own gunboats were off to.

"They're closing in!" The words were barely out of the sailor's mouth before an explosion rocked the ship. The gunboats sped on.

"Damage assessment!" The Captain yelled, clutching a chair for support.

"Radar's down!"

"Sonar too!"

"Shit." The Captain swore. "Commander Tasha, the Rubes have reinforcements!"

X With Tim, Back at the shelter X

Shame old shit as yesterday, and the day before that, and so on: Kim and Eddie were talking, and one would occasionally laugh. The brother and sister were keeping to themselves, as were the bomber crews. Stone sat quietly and observed it all, and Sarah munched on her food and pinched me just to annoy me. Simple, but old.

A officer came hurrying over to the table and circled around to where Stone was. "Captain!" He said. Stone looked up. "We received an emergency transmission, sir, Rubinelle military survivors are under attack by Lazurian forces. The Air Wing has been ordered to take off. I looked up from my tray. Lazurians? Take off? Get some blood on our hands?

"Hell yeah, let's get going!" I jumped up.

"I agree, time to brush off the dust and kick some ass!" Darren was right after me. Everyone else got up, some of them flustered, some confused, and some fearful.

_"So the fuckers finally showed themselves again, huh? Time for some more payback." _

"We have a mission," Stone waved. "Stay focused."

X With James X

"Corporal, sir." The Private said uneasily.

"Yes Cerutti?" Being a Corporal had its benefits other then the Chevrons; I actually had a squad of Privates under my command: Cerutti, Nies, Renfew, Karst, and Helen, though I remembered to address her as Pvt. Windley. It had taken some getting use to, but I'd gotten the hang of it. I honestly felt happy; I'd never actually had any intention of getting higher in rank.

"I uh…misplaced my pistol, sir." The young Private motioned to his empty side holster.

"_How the blue hell did he manage that?"_ "Take it up with the supply officer." I told him. I returned to my breakfast. A red-faced officer clutching a piece of paper came jogging over, huffing with each breath.

"Sergeant." He stood behind Anderson.

"Yeah?" He looked up.

"Lazurian forces are attacking survivors near the coast. All rapid-deployment forces are being sent immediately."

"_Lazurians?"_ I was confused. They were still active? The table had gone still and silent. Suddenly, everyone was looking at Sgt. Anderson. He turned around, his eyes at first showing calm. Then they lit up.

"WELL?" He shouted, standing up. "YOU HEARD HIM! GET YOUR GEAR AND GET YOUR ASSES ON THE HELICOPTER!" Never so quickly had the company ever moved, up to that point. "And don't fuck around this time!" His voice wasn't as loud. "There are lives on the line people. Move! Move! Move!"

XX Author's Note XX

I will admit this chapter is mostly to cover the time skip. I actually did consider some chapters in-between. There would be civilians of various loyalties, soldiers, some too young, some not completely trained, limited space, and limited food. There was a lot of potential for character development. But at the same time it wasn't really worth it with all the development coming up soon.

The Stryker and Typhoon are the last of the 5 ships submitted by user **SkyFighter**. Thus, the ships and their crews belong to him.

If you so desire, leave a review on your way out.


	28. Chapter 27

X With Tim X

"But why would they show up just now?" Kim asked. Though her fighter wasn't in my sights and the mountains could cause interference, her voice was loud and clear.

"Recovering maybe?" Eddie suggested. Apparently, just because he could wobble along on damaged legs, he could also fly, so they insisted. He hadn't crashed yet though, so maybe it did make sense.

"Nah." Dominic interjected. "They wouldn't have taken this long."

"Who cares? Let's just whack the bastards." Darren said. Now that was thinking!

"Focus on the task at hand: establishing air dominance." Stone cut in. "We'll find out details later." Several 'Yes Sirs' replied.

The fighters, traveling in their own formation some ways off, were to clear the skies and make sure they stayed clear. The bombers were staying grounded for some reason, but the Sky Raiders were with the fighters, and were responsible for softening up targets and then supporting ground targets. They'd probably get their first, and steal all the good kills.

I could've probably beaten them there, but all the helicopters had to stay in formation. _"We'd go faster if those damn Chinooks weren't here."_ Four Chinooks flew along our three attack helicopters. Two had some commandos on it or something, the third had a platoon of leathernecks on it, and the third had engineers and crewmembers. The latter's task was to establish something resembling a runway near the fighting. The troops would land, and then it would be up to us to help them. Three transports, three attack copters. It all worked out. _"Now if we could just hurry up and get there."_

X With James X

The helicopter rocked and shifted has it made its way through the mountains. Mountain fighting was something else we (or at least the original members) trained for, but with temperatures even colder now, I sincerely hoped we wouldn't have to. _"But what if the Lazurians occupy the mountains?"_ I frowned to myself. It was impossible to dislodge mountain troops unless in close combat. _"There can't be that many Lazurians."_ The thought had been at the front of my mind since we left.

Why were they here? Who were they attacking? How many were there? What shape was their country? If, by some cruel means, the meteors had mainly hit us and left Lazuria alone, then they would have absolutely no resistance in taking over the country. _"But they would've done that by now."_ I realized; a year was too long for a area this close to the coast. Then again, the terrain was unwelcoming… I shook my head. _"Focus."_ I told myself. We'd win the battle and then ask what the hell was going on. I couldn't really act scared in front of my squad, what kinda message would that send?

_"Though they're probably as nervous as me."_ Indeed, all of them were just staring at the floor. I probably didn't have to worry that much; they were all decent kids.

Private Fredrick Cerutti was 18, short, and a bit sloppy. He had very good accuracy, considering his glasses, though he was just a little bit jittery around explosives. However, Sgt. Anderson had commended him on fighting the raiders during the battle over the river. He also was very social. I didn't have any complaints about he kid, save that he didn't think about contacts.

Private Alan Nies had been one of the recruits that fought with Sam and me in the town nearly a year ago. I'd never really noticed him before we settled, so I had nothing for comparison, but his behavior was worrying at times: very anti-social and quiet. They're quite a few people that were very uncomfortable with the living arrangements, and so I assumed he was the same. Hopefully, he would grow out of it. And, as our lives literally depended on it, I hoped that it wouldn't carry on to the field.

Private William Renfew, in contrast to Cerutti, actually seemed to enjoy explosives, hence him being one of the 10 soldiers in Sgt. Anson's whole group to carry a RPG in combat (I was also amongst this list). He also had received training in demolitions from some of the engineers. He was talkative, loud, and eager to use his new knowledge. He also had taken on a habit of swearing like a sailor. This transition from the quiet nervousness of a year ago left me a little off, same as his eagerness worried me; a soldier had to be in control. But he did act with discipline when required, so no red flags in my view…_ "For now anyway."_

This battle would be a real test of our fully trained, disciplined, and morally excellent company. High morale was good, but in some instances, it could make soldiers careless. In our instance with younger soldiers, it was definitely something to always look out for.

Private Zackery Karst had also been one of the recruits to nearly be crushed by the renegade bomber. In spite of being nearly the smallest in the unit, he handled his sub machine gun with deadly skill. His show of marksmanship had even drawn positive remarks from Sgt. Anson, which, as we all knew, was no easy feat.

Private Helen Windley was very compassionate, very nice, very skilled medic. In truth, though, her combat performance was less then favorable. A particularly haunting incident a few months ago when she'd thrown a grenade far too short and nearly injuring five people proved this, though even single-rolled soldiers had trouble. I suppose we should've considered the possibility in the first place; being a skilled medic was tough, as was being a skilled soldier. Very few could balance the two out. Peter was her teacher though, so I believed she'd improve eventually.

"Do we have any intel on their exact numbers?" Captain Brenner asked. I perked an ear to the back the helicopter. We all another reason to be nervous: The Captain was with us. Always the dedicated commander, he would be leading from the front. As the helicopter carrying the engineers was full, they would ride with us. Across from him sat the Lieutenant. Beside him sat a younger kid wearing a cadet uniform. I frowned. His name was Will, and he was coming to have a minor role in commanding the battalion; Already he'd commanded several of our search and rescue missions.

Personally, I disapproved of the whole thing. Civilians and kids being soldiers? That was manageable. Kids being pilots? Dangerous, but manageable. A kid being an officer? To be the one to decide the strategies that could mean the difference between life and death for soldiers? _"Ridiculous."_ Youth were adaptable to certain roles, but commanding on such a large scale? That should be reserved for older people. The kid wasn't the self-centered type, but he was overly cautious. If there was the slightest sign of danger, we could forget moving. It was both irritating and insulting. War is terrible, and no person should ever enjoy it, but we knew what we were getting when we signed up. To keep us from doing our duty was the ultimate insult to a soldier, in my opinion anyway. I shook my head.

"Nothing exact." Lieutenant Lin responded. "But there's a lack of aircraft and their naval vessels have been destroyed. It should strictly be a ground battle, Captain." He nodded.

"That's good." He looked over at all of us. Everyone immediate tried to look tough and ready. This would've been the first time most of them fought against Lazurians.

_"What can I say to reassure them?"_ I didn't think many of them actually saw a day like this arriving when they agreed to start training. Well, this wouldn't be so different from the raiders; we'd be fighting to save lives.

"10 minutes." Sgt. Carpenter warned. 10 minutes and we'd be fighting of sworn enemies again. Why did there still have to be fighting? Our energy should be going into rebuilding. But there must've been someone on the other side or the channel with an axe to grind. "5 minutes." I barely noticed the time had passed.

I glanced over to where Sgt. Anson was sitting. While most of the helicopter was stuck in uneasy silence, Sgt. Anson acted as if it were another day. Having fought Lazuria for so long, something like this mustn't have seemed so sudden or unexpected. He noticed me watching him and nodded, patted the Sergeant chevrons on his shoulder. I nodded by. I was an officer myself now, meaning I had to lead. I was leading a new generation of soldiers, and I was still young myself. It was funny how plenty of things were still backwards even after a year.

There was a swooping sensation in my stomach as the helicopter started to descend. "This'll be where the engineers are landing." Sgt. Carpenter called. The ramp lowed and the helicopter touched down on soft sand. The Captain and his staff got up.

"Good luck." The Captain turned to edge us on before he disembarked. The ramp stayed down, but the helicopter went right back up.

"Alright folks, place we're landing is gambling central: casinos, restaurants, pawn shops, and a whole lot of alleys." Sgt. Carpenter spelled out the sight below as the helicopter started to descend again. I'd heard a lot about these places even if I'd never been to one. Crime had been a major problem. I wondered how the people and the buildings had faired during the meteors; they probably had starved to death, cut off entirely from the rest of the world.

Though as the helicopter touched down, I could see that the city had a very weathered look to it, literally! Everything was strewn around, and the buildings showed signs of destruction and decay, but on a scale lesser then the meteors. If I had to bet on it, I'd say a massive wave had wiped out the inhabitants.

"Remember: stick to cover, and let the enemy come to you." Sgt. Anson called.

"And remember that those survivors are depending on us to rescue them!" I added. Sgt. Anson nodded in approval.

"Good luck." The crewmember said the same thing as always. I nodded to him as we quickly moved out into the street. Everyone automatically moved to any spot that offered a surprise route, to any object that could serve as cover. My squad followed me and we all took cover behind an overturned delivery van. Every alley, shop, and roadway was being watched. Landing zone secured.

_"Trained just like the old unit."_ Maybe I was worrying for nothing. The Chinook took off and one of the Apaches took its space.

"Buzzard 7, can you hear me?" Sgt. Anson made contact.

"We can see and hear just fine, sir." One of the pilots responded. There were three attack helicopters, and three groups on the ground, so everyone got a guardian angel of their own.

"We aren't familiar with this area, what can you spot?"

"Your group is the furthest back." He explained. "The roadway through this town is the only way for Lazurian forces to group, and it looks like a convoy is about to enter the town. There's a large avenue to the east, they'll probably use it." If it were the fastest way to regroup, they'd take their chances.

"Understood, go help the other teams." He ordered. Several private temporarily turned to look at him as he ordered our support away.

"Sir?" The pilot seemed just as surprised.

"We might lose the element of surprise. Help the other teams, and we'll ambush the enemy." Sgt. Anson outlined his plan. It actually made sense: if they saw the helicopter, they'd avoid open roads. The element of surprise would've also given us an advantage a helicopter couldn't.

"…Understood, we'll be ready to fly right back if you need us." With that, the helicopter turned and flew off.

"We need to secure that avenue." Sgt. Anson pointed to one of the alleys. "Everyone move." He ordered. As the group moved out, Cerutti asked me,

"Is this such a good idea?" I quickly explained how it could be a good idea. It seemed to put his mind at ease.

"Just remember," I told him. "Sgt. Anson has done this before; he probably knows exactly how the enemy thinks."

X With Tim X

"Hell of a number they did." I muttered. The two twerps in the Sky Raiders had actually done a bit of damage. Oil and scrap metal floated about a mile off the coast where a Lazurian Cruiser had previously sat. Several buildings in the distance both ways were burning, and the smoldering remains of what might've been a convoy sat on a road below us. They'd stolen all the good kills…

Still, we were needed. Apparently, the Lazurians had turned some Casino near the tip of the island a barracks and a field hospital of some sort. Now the Sky Raiders and the Destroyer were both firing on it. It was a pointless attack; the building was too big. Sky Raiders didn't carry that many bombs, and Destroyers weren't considered heavy combat ships; they barely matched a light cruiser. They were more suited for protecting bigger ships or supporting troops on land. And yet the idiots were hammering a building that definitely wouldn't fall down. _"More for us."_

If there was anything left. It had taken us some time to be here, and there was no telling how many Lazurians had been here at first, let alone how many had already retreated. Considering there might've been only 300 Marines we were rescuing, and that we were fighting in a area better suited for planes and ships, there was little reason for ground troops to be here. And since the sea and sky were already clear, did we really need to be here?

"First time we get to fight in a whole fucking year, and there's nothing to shoot at." I complained.

"Hell, we'll find you something to shoot at!" The Sergeant below called. There was a stretch of road from a town behind us to a town ahead of us. The helicopter troops below were just meant to make sure no one was hiding on the road.

"Make it damn good, cause I didn't fly out here for nothing." I called as the troops started advancing.

"Jumpy?" Sarah asked.

"I've been resting so too long. I want some action, damnit." I said. "What the hell are they doing here?" I watched as another Apache started hovering nearby.

"Yeah?" The Sergeant barked over the radio.

"The other group commander dismissed us to come help over here." It was Lance and Sofia.

_"Great, competition."_

"Hell, if Riley sent you, just keep on going; the Marines up ahead could use a hand."

"Actually, we'll go give them a hand." I volunteered quickly. Those guys usually got the most of the fighting.

"Good luck with that." And we were off. In the town, bright traces of gunfire flew back and forth, and three buildings sat in flames. I could see Jessie and Darren's helicopter firing down on something a little further away.

"You guys need any help down there?" Sarah called.

"Shit guys, this is our zone!" Darren called.

"Plenty to go around down here!" The Marine radioman called. "Got RPG fire from the loan building, got machine gun fire from the pawn shop, hell, just level every damn building!" He called. A barrage of rocket fire from Darren's helicopter destroyed several buildings on one side of a street.

"Zirnitra 2 hears you." Jessie laughed. "Fuckers are burning."

"Sarah?" I asked pointedly.

"I ain't far behind." She responded, sending a missile streaking down into another building.

"All units, we have confirmed that enemy forces already evacuated east. Let's just finish the ones already here." The Captain ordered.

"The bastards cut and ran!" I said. Damnit, first action in a whole fucking year…

"Pussies." Jessie agreed with me. "Let's just kill the rest of these guys and get the hell home."

_"Home's boring though."_ I sighed inwardly.

X With James X

"Renfew, take cover behind that van, hurry up!" I called. The group was setting up on the avenue. My squad was tasked with protecting the flank. The enemy was smart, and they'd definitely try to sneak up through this alley.

We had taken cover near the loading dock for a small convenient store. I was taking cover behind a dumpster, Karst behind a stack of crates further up. Renfew was knew the back of the group with Helen, and Nies had discretely climbed the external air conditioning vent to a good vantage point on the roof. Cerutti had found some cover behind a section of the building that protruded out slightly. _"Not to shabby."_ I supposed.

A mixture of rumbling and humming signaled the arrival of the Lazurian Convoy. "All teams hold fire." St. Anson ordered. I took aim with my rifle, focusing down the alley where the enemy could come from. The noise got closer, and closer, then… "Open fire!" Assault rifles and RPGs fired all at the same time. Several explosions sent flames and scrap metal into the sky, before disappearing back behind the building. After some delay, a Lazurian machine gun started responding.

"Focus." I called. Our time would come. Another rocket fired and the Lazurian machine gun stopped. It must've been pure carnage out there. An artillery shell landed on a hotel in the distance, causing it to collapse. _"Oh damn."_ I covered the back of my head. They must've had a artillery gun hidden somewhere out there. A slight panic gripped the group. Sgt. Anson quickly got on the radio to call back the Apache.

"Sir!" Helen called. I looked back up. Several Lazurian soldiers were stalking up the alley in crouched position.

"Fire!" I yelled. The soldiers stiffened; they didn't know we were here. I swung my rifle and made sure the sights were over the torso of one of the Lazurians before squeezing the trigger. Of the five soldiers, two were hit and crumpled down. The other three quickly ducked into the cover offered by the alley: crates, delivery vehicles, and dumpsters. One un-slung a rocket and leaned from cover. Before any of us could hit him, he fired.

The round connected right with the dumpster I was hiding behind, propelling it right into me. I fell to the ground, winded and with pain flaring in my chest. Before my senses fully returned, Renfew and Helen had already hauled me up. Bullets were still flying, both in the alley and out on the avenue. Another artillery shell hit the building. Shrieking in terror, Nies was pushed from the roof and bounced off the top of the van and onto the concrete, dazed. "Son of a bitch!" Renfew said. Standing up, I pulled a grenade off my vest and hurled it over the dumpster.

"I got one!" Karst called at the same moment. The grenade detonated, and the sound of flesh being torn apart told me it'd done its job. One lone AK still barked, meaning that there was still a Lazurian out there.

"Surrender!" I yelled, taking aim. They couldn't possibly have any hope left for escape or victory, and maybe we could get some answers.

"So you can kill me to?" An accented voice yelled back as another artillery shell crashed into the avenue. "Fuck you, Rube!" The warhead of another RPG appeared.

"Take cover!" I warned, shrinking against the wall. Renfew and Nies both retreated as the rocket hit the van, engulfing in a massive fireball. I quickly leaned out of cover, firing at the Lazurian as he leaned back into cover. Even from here, I could see flesh and blood fly off where the bullets hit his left arm.

The Apache returned, guns blazing. Explosions rocked the avenue. "Follow me." I motioned to Cerutti. Carefully, we both approached where the Lazurian was hiding. The gunfire on the avenue had ceased. Now if we could just get a prisoner…

I motioned for Cerutti to stop short and carefully circled around to face the Lazurian, making sure to stay at least twelve feet away from him. The Lazurian was leaning against the wall of the building. His breath was ragged as blood pulsed from his torn up arm down onto the concrete. "Put your other arm up!" I ordered. He looked up at me, a snarl on his face. I froze. His face was just like the Lazurian I'd cornered in the woods nearly a year ago. _"He's looking at me like I'm some sort of evil." _Soldiers usually saw each other as equal. "Put it up." I repeated.

"Fuck…you…" He breathed. He was losing a lot of blood; the bullets must've torn up a major artery. "You think I…will prefer…to die in your hands…like a dog?" He forced himself up.

_"What is his problem?"_ "Stop!" I ordered, bringing my rifle up.

"To hell with you!" His right hand drew a combat knife with surprising speed and he lunged at me. I had no choice but to fire. Cerutti fired at the same time. Hit several times in the chest, and from the side, he collapsed side ways and the knife clattered to the ground.

"Sir?" Cerutti asked weakly.

"I'm fine." I said quickly, taking a deep breath. That was too close. _"Why didn't he surrender?" _ We joined the rest of the group one the avenue.

"Holy shit." Renfew whispered. Jeeps and APCs were scattered across the road, all of them either a burning wreck or inoperable. Bodies were just as equally strewn about. I quickly looked at our own troops. Several people were down, but not out, while a few were limped or holding a arm. That was bad, it could inhibit their ability to fight.

"Windley, start helping the wounded. The rest of you, go double check those bodies." I ordered, walking over to a private lying on the ground. _"At least 100 dead and dozens wounded. For what?" _

X With Tim X

"Hey guys, we could use a hand out here!" Dominic called.

"What do you need?" Darren responded.

"The ships started evacuated those Marines was the island they were shipwrecked on, and now we're the only ones to stop a bunch of landers and gunboats evacuating troops. We're out of bombs, man."

"You boys okay down there?" Sarah asked.

"Hell, we've got em running!" The Marine replied.

"Time to go ship hunting them!" I declared. Evacuations were still fair game, especially now. The evacuation wasn't much; in fact, it was only a light cruiser, two landers, and a gunboat. The cruiser was the problem.

"Ah hell, how are we going to get close with those AA guns blaring at us?"

"Do I look like I know?" I responded. I scratched my head. Helicopters did not match up well against ships, hence why the navy really only used them in limited search and rescue missions.

"Are we going to let it get away?" Sarah asked.

"All units, return to the temporary HQ, this battle is over." Captain Brenner declared over the radio.

"Damn." Jessie muttered. "Why are we letting them get away?"

"They aren't our objective." Stone interjected. "This was just a rescue op."

_"Waste of our talent."_ I thought. Rescue ops, probably the only damn thing we'd get to do. I pitched the helicopter back towards the beach. _"Look at the good side: spilled a lot of blood today."_

X With James X

The helicopter touched down and sunk slightly into the sand. The ramp went down and we all walked down onto the beach. All the aircraft had already landed, as had the troops some of them were carrying. The Marines that had been pinned down were coming ashore, either on the gunboats, or wading in from the Destroyer.

"Bastards put up a hard fight." Sam said as he came over, Peter behind him. "They fight hard, they die hard. I must've shot at least 10 of them."

"More along the lines of three." Peter corrected.

"What do you think those Marines were doing way out here?" Helen came over. Sam rolled his eyes and moved over.

"They might have heard our transmission?" I suggested. "The Lazurians could've intercepted it as well." I said as an after thought._ "Would they attack the shelter?"_

"Not likely." A 12 Battalion Marine came over, clutching a rag against his bloody head. "We saw a bunch of sunken ships near the coast, and those boys are carrying a lot of supplies. They got to have come from somewhere with supplies just like us."

"That looks bad." Peter looked at the wound. "Let me see."

"Shit, this is nothing!" He removed the rag, displaying a nasty gash across his head where a bullet had grazed it. "It's like a brotherhood; if you see fellow Marine in trouble, you fight tooth and nail to help him."

"Helen, get some disinfectant and come over here." Peter ordered.

"First name basis." Sam whispered in my ear.

"Grow up." I retorted. "If they had a stable source, then they probably came out here looking for us, or other survivors at least." I carried on the conversation.

"I'd say they're a small part of a bigger force." The Marine said.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Cause no sensible Marine would accept a toothpick like that for an officer unless someone more important said so." He pointed towards the beach. Being dragged out of the water by two Marines, a young officer coughed and weakly stumbled onto the beach. He didn't look so young as Will, but he was definitely younger then me.

"Maybe the government re-established itself somewhere further east?" Peter suggested. I pondered the thought. It was very possible the military and civilian officials had established a new government.

"And it's possible the new government declared war." I said the last thought out loud.

"Bullshit." A Marine called from the beach, walking towards us. "Those assholes swung first, killed women and children when they couldn't even tell what was happening. We're defenders, grunt."

"Sounds like them." Sam said bitterly.

_"Why would they do that? They won the war, they have no reason to be bitter."_

"Yeah, the 12th Battalion's been hiding under a rock, so we didn't expect you guys to know."

"How do you know who we are?" Helen asked.

"We didn't till a few months ago. The President heard you were out here and sent us to find you. Wars been rough, those fuckers are pulling a lot of tricks."

"War? What's this I'm hearing about war?" Sgt. Anderson came over, Sgt. Anson right behind.

"War broke out a year ago between the survivors or Rubinelle and Lazuria." The Marine explained. A admiral in the Capital took control of the government and formed the NRA, the New Rubinelle Army. We've been fighting for a year now, and we came out here because we needed you help. You guys got something pretty nice here for a armored Battalion." Sgt. Anderson and Sgt. Anson turned and started talking to each other, but we couldn't hear it.

"So, we'll be fighting them after all. Guess the training wasn't for nothing." Sam said.

"Hope you remember it well, cause you'll need it. War's been in a stalemate, and we're gonna need all the firepower available." He limped over to where his own comrades were.

"Well I'll be…" On one hand I was happy, and on the other I worried. The government had been re-established; civilization was already very far along on it's way back to normal; I could stop worrying about whether or not I was making a difference. On the other, this war could end the last of civilization, or make things worse then they were before.

"Well, we always expected this, right?" Sam asked. "A war with Lazuria? It'll be just like before the meteors, we won't even remember we're in a new world."

"Don't count on it, Garcia." Sgt. Anderson came over. "This war will be very different then anything we ever trained for."

XX Author's note XX

Another small skirmish, but now the stage will shift to large cities, dense forests, and mountaintops. I should also warn that the whole 12th-NRA-Lazurian war will be very long, and complicated, so the chapters will be a lot longer, and not all of them will be combat or levels from the game.

If anyone is interested, I have decided to start the NRA let of my Days of Ruin trilogy early, since it has a lot of connections with this leg. Please take a moment to go read it if you so choose.


	29. Chapter 28

XX Author's Note XX

I am going to start including more 3rd Person scenes in the upcoming chapters. I want to paint a much broader picture of the war then the simplified one presented in the games. It is also a way to more solidly connect all three legs of the trilogy.

X With Tim X

After we all returned to the shelter, the Captain decided to speak to the entire population. It was music to my ears: We were going to war. Well…that last part wasn't entirely decided yet.

Things were like this: A Admiral in the Capital had reconstructed the government. Then remnants of the Lazurian military attacked Rubinelle survivors, and caused a lot of damage. So the Admiral gathered up all surviving Rubinelle military members and made a new military: The New Rubinelle Army (Kind of stupid and unnecessary if you ask me, but whatever worked for the sap). Apparently, everyone that was here were the only good soldiers, because they weren't having any luck out there; it was a stalemate. That was why those Marines had come looking for us; they needed all the help they can get. The Captain hadn't explicitly said we were fighting, just that we should go see how well civilization was doing for itself. We were going to war; everyone knew that. Had to give the guy credit for not forcing it on us though.

"Hot damn, we're going to war!" Jessie rubbed his hands together. "Not just this small scale junk either, big fish! Naval landings, massive armor assault, airborne landings, all that shit."

"Hell, bastards won't know what hit them!" Dominic agreed. Everyone was in groups, blabbering on about the news.

"They won't know what hit them? You'll probably crash on the way there! I saw the way you flew back in the islands." Darren raised an eyebrow. "I'm amazed you didn't sink yourself."

"Hey man, that's just how I fly." Dominic reared back with a cocky grin.

"Keep at it and your black skin's going to be crispy black." Jessie laughed. "When the hell are we leaving anyway?"

"Sometime soon I hope." I crossed my arms. "Once you get a taste of blood, it's hard to get rid of."

"I hear that!" Dominic said. His grin faded slightly. "Hey man, I think something's up with your old lady."

"Call her old again and I'll snap your neck." I retorted. But I turned where he had been looking. We had been talking in one of the million identical halls in this damn place. Sarah was leaning quietly against the wall down the hall. Now, if a woman does not, it means something. "I'll be right back." I started walking towards her. _"What does she want to talk about?"_

"What is it?" I asked, glancing back to make sure the others weren't trying to listen in.

"Walk outside with me." Her tone was a familiar one, as was the look on her face.

_"More philosophy, probably. What now?"_ It perked my interest. I'd come to realize that she actually thought a lot deeper about these things then I did. If she was going to suggest something, I better damn well listen. She was usually right anyway.

Once we were outside, she sat on a semi-flat rock on the ridge that had a decent view of the city. I simply stood nearby and looked at the city while I waited for her to start talking. After about a minute, I realized she was staring at the city too. _"What is she thinking about?"_

"Have you ever thought about having a normal life?" She asked me. The question was random enough that it took me a moment to answer.

"Normal life? Like a job, house, all that stuff?" She nodded. "Well, it never really crossed my mind, you know?"

"Is it something you'd be considering to try?" She turned to me. Her eyes betrayed a hint of hopefulness. I scratched the back of my head to buy me some time. Would I?

"I…guess." I admitted. What harm could there be? "Why? What are you getting at?" I asked. She wasn't a random person; there was a point to these questions.

"I talked to those Marine's we rescued." She said. "Society is all back together out there, kind of a socialist state they said."

"That's where everyone is equal, isn't it?" I asked. She nodded. _"That'd be a first for us."_

"Yeah, and about this war that's going on-it's complete total war."

"Total war?" I asked. Total War, was complete un-restricted chaos. Civilians were targets and all buildings were free game. Total war usually ended with populations wiped out and lands left barren. Not really my kind of thing, but I was fairly sure it was banned anyway.

"Yep." She nodded. "And if they win, they keep saying it'll be the end of it- no more Lazurians, no more war."

"Which means we're gonna be discharged as a victory gift." I finished. Win a war, get kicked out. How fun. "We'd be civilians…" I realized something. "Which is what you're talking about, isn't it?"

"I want a normal life." She laid down on the stone. "I know you've looked at how little we've always had and wished you had more."

_"Yeah, and being a pessimist about it wouldn't help."_ I hadn't been that jealous or antagonized about it…at least not after a while. "Never really had the opportunity…"

"That's what this is, don't you get it?" She jumped up and grabbed both of my hands. "This is a second chance! We've both wasted the past ten years of our lives- we ran away from our pasts- but that's only because that was all that was available to us. We can start over, we can actually make something serious of ourselves." She looked up at me hopefully with big eyes.

_"Damn, she really has it all thought through."_ A second chance to start equal with everyone else… The idea was actually kind of tempting. Though I didn't jump into any new plan headfirst. And something about this just sent off a red flag in my head. "It's a big change, isn't it?"

"Think of everything we've survived so far." She suggested. "It be child's play compared to all that." I must've still looked skeptical, because she went on. "I know how it looks now, but once we actually try it, it'll all be easier."

"You've really thought this through, haven't you?" I asked. She let go and sat on the rock again.

"Honestly, I've always wanted a way out. But nothing ever materialized."

"…This is something you really want, isn't it?" It actually kind of made me feel dumb; I would've never thought of something like that. As I've mentioned before, thinking ahead isn't one of my strong points.

"Yeah. Don't you?" She asked.

"I suppose I do, I just don't realize it right now." It was the best answer I could come up with. Still, if it was something she wanted… _"I am completely whipped." _She smiled.

"That's something I never thought I'd hear you say."

"Yeah, well, you've been rubbing off on me." I responded.

"Your actually smart if you try to be." She told me. "You really need to start thinking big."

"Maybe." I shrugged. We started walking back towards the shelter. "Why the hell do you even bother with my slow ass?" I asked. "If anything, I've been a bad influence, and you're pretty damn smart and ambitious." She laughed and leaned against me.

"No, you helped me be strong. And anyway, women are always smart and ambitious, it doesn't matter where they come from." Her eyes glittered mischievously.

"So I've learned."

"You weren't that hell bent of being bad either." She went on. "You had some ambition, even if it was small. And aside from that, you're the only one who has any idea what I've been through and don't think of me any less for it." She added.

_"Same reason I'm with you."_

"For some reason, its like being raped makes a woman unworthy of being in a relationship." Her tone became sad and she looked down at the ground. I quickly tried to think of response.

"I don't see how." I said. "I'm pretty sure it takes a kind of strength only the bravest and determined people have." I couldn't really think of a further reply, but I thought I saw her mouth curve up.

"I already think I know something we can do." She went on in a normal voice.

"Oh yeah?" I asked.

"Mmhm." She nodded. Compared to here, there are plenty of options out there now. For instance, helicopters are still needed in civilian life." She looked at me. "We could still be pilots."

"The freedom of flying minus the killing power." I mused.

"If we get to start over equal to everyone else, no need for weapons to make us feel big, right?" Her point was very blunt.

"You make it sound like we do it only to actually feel superior to everyone else." I said uneasily.

"That was really my only reason at first." She admitted.

"I can…kind of see where you're coming from."

"What?" I realized I had been too quiet.

"That was my reason too. The rest came after." I said a bit more loudly. "Makes me sound like an ass."

"We can't be the only ones who joined just for that reason." She said.

"I suppose not…" I shrugged. The shelter seemed a lot further away then I remembered.

"Scared?" She asked.

"Of what?" I looked over at her in confusion.

"Of trying to live a normal life." She explained. "Neither of us really know a whole lot about it, do we?"

"Not really." I agreed. The idea seemed less appealing now.

"A lot of soldiers have trouble adjusting." She tried to comfort me. "We just have to pick up as we move along." I tried to think ahead and grasp the idea. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't really imagine myself.

_"Is that a good or bad thing?"_ I couldn't figure it out. "I think I'll let you handle the planning." I told Sarah. "I can't really wrap my mind around it for now."

"I don't blame you." She reassured. "Just always remember that there's nothing holding us back this time; we can choose for ourselves. No more running, no more hiding." I nodded at her enthusiasm; It was like she processed. Then again, she had a lot more to gain from it.

_"This could be a new start for _the_ both of us." _I nodded inwardly. _"Though shouldn't I feel more eager about it?"_ Even though I realized the stupidity of how I lived the most of my life up to this point, mending it just didn't seem to register like it had with Sarah. The whole concept of starting over was beginning more and more to sound like it wouldn't work. I scoffed at myself and a bit of my former self came back. _"Why should I be scared?"_ I wasn't scared of anything! Why the hell had things become so uneasy since last years revelation? My personality up to that point may not have been the best, but I realized that it could still help, should I use it correctly.

"We'll make this work somehow." I said out loud, catching Sarah's attention.

"Now you're thinking." She said in approval.

_"Moving up."_ I marveled at the thought. _"Seems like only yesterday we were kids stuck behind a rusting iron fence."_

X With James X

"Onwards we go!" Sam declared, hopping onto the hood of a Humvee and pointing up. "To battlefields! To glory! To justice!" His speech received several cheers and claps, though only from a certain population.

"I serious wonder if he got brain damage when we weren't looking." Peter said, watching the spectacle.

"Not really a occasion to be over eager for." I agreed. Around us, soldiers moved back and forth, observing vehicles and supply crates and barrels. Everyone was in the city now, gathering up the supplies and vehicles we had stored there. So far, everything seemed to be in working order. Though it was quickly becoming apparent we didn't have that much food, fuel, or ammunition saved. With any luck, the new military would have a surplus to lend us a hand.

"Corporals, got your kits yet?" Sgt. Anderson appeared.

"Yes sir." I patted my pack. "Food, water, ammunition, medical, survival, and navigation tools."

"Good." He nodded and went to check on the other soldiers.

"Not exactly how I imagined us entering a war." Helen came and sat down with us.

"Some say war is human nature." Peter shrugged. "There will always be conflict between humans."

_"All we can do is reduce the scale of it."_

"Hmm." Helen trailed off to think for herself.

"Board the helicopter." Sgt. Anson walked up to us. "All planes and helicopters are leaving first to a allied base. The ground forces will follow shortly."

"First to the line. Alright, let's go!" Sam, having overheard, rubbed his hands together. We all started walking.

"What do you think it's like there?" Helen asked.

"Probably martial law." I theorized. Even with everything brought together; supplies and living space wouldn't be plentiful enough to accommodate every being.

"Do you think we'll have to shoot our own people?" Helen asked. Her words were true; civilians were capable of causing a lot of damage. Angry civilians were raw force left to run wild.

"I hope not." I answered. _"It would go against everything I signed up for."_ The discussion seemed to strike a nerve with everyone, as we all remained silent till we reached the helicopter.

"Nice set up you boys got here." It was one of the NRA Marines. He was observing all the planes and helicopters we had in our inventory. "We can assign you pretty much anywhere and you can stand on your own."

"We've come a long way." I said modestly.

"Well, I enjoy working with professionals." He came over and shook all of our hands. "I look forward to working with you guys on the battlefield."

"Yeah, well once we're there, no Lazurian is going to get us out." Sam beat a fist on his chest. "The bastards won't know what hit them."

"Hope so, cause we haven't got them to move in months." He started walking off.

"Wait a damn minute boy, I got a question." Sgt. Anderson had arrived with other members of the unit in tow. "What type of war we got going on? Limited?" Limited war was a war fought to accomplish a certain objective: removing a influence from a area, destroying a figure's military forces, or just repulsing a enemy presence from a area. I was going to take a wild guess and say we only had enough manpower to protect our land, not anything more.

_"But if both countries reform, given two hundred years, everything will be back to how it was." _Nothing will have changed…

"Total, fucking, war." The Marine said. It caught me by surprise. Total war? We were trying to occupy what was left of Lazuria?

"So uh…what's the plan? Set up a new government? Or just demilitarize them?" Even Sgt. Anderson seemed surprised.

"Complete extermination." The Marine said smugly. Everyone in the immediate area stopped. The reactions were to be expected: shock. Some people had a mortified look on their face.

_"Genocide?" _The idea was repulsive. Soldiers were guardians, not murderers.

"What?" The Marine didn't seem to realize he'd said anything wrong. "Think about it!" He tried to reason. "No Lazurians, no one for us to fight. Eternal peace!" The prospect was lost due to the shock blocking it.

"That" Sgt. Anderson growled, "Is bullshit." I felt disgusted myself. We all took our roles are soldiers seriously. The fact someone could suggest we'd sink to such a level was insulting.

_"We wouldn't be any better then the raiders we died fighting."_

"Ah, you guys remind me of a myself a year ago. Just wait." He warned as he started walking away. "Spend a few days out there and see what YOU think." He did not keep the bitterness out of his voice. Silence.

"Man, what was his problem?" A pilot asked.

"He's probably been at war for over a year now. It isn't healthy." Sgt. Anderson shook his head. "The new government must be so strapped, they can't give soldiers R&R." The statement caused a new thought to materialize in my mind.

_"We have the equipment…but do we have the sensible manpower?"_

X Darrett, Lazuria X

General Forsythe strode dutifully down one of the many hallways of Fort Lazuria. In recent weeks, he had adapted to a sleep schedule that allowed him to wake when most of the reports came in. Before hand, reports had to usually be sent by air or ship, which was ineffective, which could keep Forsythe from having a clearer picture of the entire war. But thanks to Dr. Caulder, he could know exactly where his soldiers where and what had happened. Though reports arrived at different times, and urgent ones giving reason to wake him, many of the standard reports from field officers arrived at generally the same time.

At once, the intelligence and communication staff stood up in salute. "At ease. We needn't do this every morning, gentlemen." Forsythe said with a chuckle. "What are the happenings this morning?" He observed the large pile of papers.

"Well General, most of the reports are standard supply requests." Said Major Karev, on of the intelligence officers. The young man acted as a filter, effectively and professionally isolating reports that required Forsythe's immediate attention; the rest he could receive a summary of later. "But we have several important ones." He pushed a much smaller stack of papers his way.

"There has been some overnight develops with our special operatives." Colonel Chepurin pushed himself to the front of line of Forsythe's advisors and staff. The man did this every day. Though annoying and aggressive, Forsythe did realize the need to listen to the man.

War was ever changing. As technology advanced, so did strategies. The change was often rapid. Intelligence and espionage had evidently come a long way since Forsythe commanded. War was now filled with black operatives, sabotage, and political and military assassinations. The days of a simple lookout with a camera had been dying then, and was already long dead now. Personally, he found this new form of war very unethical; un-wanted killings from strategic bombings were bad enough, but even he could not deny its worth and need. Luckily, others handled much of these efforts, so that Forsythe would not dirty his own hands.

"Very well Colonel, what has happened in the past eight hours?" Forsythe had learned this new form of war changed much faster then more traditional forms.

"Many things, General." First off, several of our agents managed to blow up several oil rigs that were supplying the Rube's navy."

_That will slow them down slightly._ Forsythe nodded. "Go on."

"I must regretfully report that a pair of agents were captured and executed while trying to plant a bomb at a naval port near where the Rubinelle 5,6, and 7th fleet remnants are operating."

"Oh dear." Forsythe murmured. He privately wondered how people could work a job with so many risks. The Colonel nodded in sympathy. "Is that all?" Forsythe asked. Though usually significant, there weren't many reports.

"Oh no, General." He grinned. "There's one more report."

"An ace up your sleeve I suppose?"

"Better." He handed General Forsythe a piece of paper, which only contained a single transmission: INFILTRATION SUCCESSFUL.

"We finally got one of our agents inside the Rubinelle Capital." Chepurin explained.

"Splendid news!" Forsythe exclaimed.

"Jack of all trades; she can do just about anything." Chepurin nodded. "So what'll be the order, sir? Blowing up their barracks? Poisoning their water? Hell, why not just order her to slot the bastard in charge?"

"No, no, that's fine." Forsythe shook his head dismissively. Any acts resembling terrorism or ones that killed a very influential person would most likely spur Rubinelle into fighting even more. The war was dragging on and Forsythe realized peace was the only sensible solution, but any requests for negotiations were completely ignored. While messy, a bombing of their Capital might change their leader's mind. "I want her to gather up detailed reports about local defenses: AA units, air fields, the likes." Colonel Chepurin looked surprise.

"With all due respect sir, Makoto is a very skilled operative. She could do much more damage by-

"Are you defying my order, Colonel?" Forsythe asked boldly. Complete silence took the room. As odds increased in their favor, many officers were becoming aggressive and encouraged the carrying on of the already bloody conflict till there was no one left. Forsythe couldn't let that happen sitting down.

"No sir." The Colonel's attitude evaporated under Forsythe's glare. "I'll go transfer the order." He left the room to spare himself more embarrassment.

"Couple of military reports came in today." Major Polyakov said.

"Go on." Forsythe told his aid.

"The Rube's 2nd Fleet took back to the seas yesterday." His mouth curved upwards. "They certainly spent a while licking their wounds. That Trojan horse strategy worked like a charm, didn't it, sir?"

"I suppose so…" Forsythe said uneasily. The Trojan horse in question had happened nearly a month ago, and ended with the Rubinelle 3rd fleet destroyed and it's 2nd Fleet crippled. There were two odd facts about this operation: Number 1 was that no Lazurians had lost their lives in it, and number 2 was that Forsythe had not authorized it; Dr. Caulder had.

The weapons manufacturer had gone to a notoriously eager General and proposed a secret deal: Secure a intact Rubinelle battleship, and he'd receive infinite glory. And so he had, using air power to destroy its escorts and naval commandos to kill the crew. What Caulder then had done was take the Battleship into one of his own facilities and modified it. A week later, the ship easily sailed into a secure Rubinelle port and opened fire on the unsuspecting and largely unmanned ships. Just inside of an hour, over 12 ships lay sunk and many more damaged, the town was burning and nearly 17 thousand people killed. No definite figure on civilian casualties could be found. The results for morale on both sides had been indescribable. Everyone had simply believed it had been a group of devoted Lazurians, but Forsythe knew the truth.

"Automated troops, General." Dr. Caulder had offered the event as a sales pitch later. "All ships, all planes, and all tanks can be controlled with the touch of a button. No more risk for your men. "So to where do you want these upgrades first?"

"No where." Forsythe had said adamantly, surprising the scientist. Forsythe had already been insulted when Dr. Caulder cut in on his authority (he had had the General involved detained), but he had been absolutely horrified when he learned of the event.

All that power in one person's hand? Using machines to murder men? Madness! Such a thing could only cause more problems. Forsythe had denied the aid constantly; despite the other mans continued insistence. General Forsythe was starting to worry about Dr. Caulder; a man with that much power and influence could be dangerous. The sooner the war was over the better.

"We got an excerpt from one of their newspapers. 'Captain Ryman swears to lead his fleet on the warpath straight to Darrett.'" Polyakov quoted the cut out.

"Daring and angry, which makes him very dangerous." Forsythe observed. "It may be worth increasing defenses in the area. What else?"

"Our 9th fleet, with support from air units, attacked the Rubinelle 1st fleet in a deadly but indecisive battle." Forsythe shook his head. That seemed to happen a lot, and would keep occurring unless the stalemate was broken.

"A Captain Levsensky reports increased enemy submarine activity in his area of operations." Polyakov went on.

"Hmm." Forsythe went over to the large map posted on the nearby wall. It was covered with pins representing ships, air squadrons, and troop concentrations. He had no immediate knowledge of a Captain Levsensky, so he searched the outer edges of the mass of pins.

"Right here, sir." Polyakov pointed to a island some 90 miles away from the rest. According to the pins, there were four frigates guarding the island, which held a radar facility. "Not much is it?" He looked at the tiny dot.

"No, but it is important." Forsythe turned back to his aid. "Are there any ships to be launched soon?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Caulder delivered two battleships yesterday." Polyakov nodded.

_Caulder again _Forsythe thought and suppressed a frown. He had been using many of the materials offered to build industry, making Lazuria independent again. Needed materials from Lazurian mines and refineries were doing much more then trickling in, and several factories and ports had begun producing war machines again. Rubinelle bombing disrupted these efforts, though. And often all Lazuria could make smaller units. In particular, all Capital ships had to be supplied.

"It would be a waste." Forsythe decided. "Any smaller ships?"

"I believe there's a cruiser we haven't assigned yet." Polyakov flipped through the papers he had brought himself; his job required him to carry all the information Forsythe needed.

"Assign it under Captain Levsensky then." A cruiser could help with the submarine problem, and stave off any small-scale invasions. Polyakov picked up another report and frowned at its contents.

"Well sir, I have some good news and bad news from Admiral Golovkin." He said.

"Oh dear." Forsythe said. Forsythe had appointed the Veteran Admiral (and a former member of his staff) to the east with the goal of orchestrating a landing on and then capture of a large stretch of desert on the Rubinelle main land. This land was the country's main supply of oil. Capturing it could also serve as leverage in negotiations. There were a lot of troops concentrated in that part of the channel. It had been a constant worry that the enemy would figure out these plans.

However, there was no enemy activity in that area. And the enemy showed no notice to the ships, men, and planes disappearing from their previous posts. The coastline and the air and oil fields, while already heavily defended, hadn't been reinforced. But anything related to operation was important.

"Yes sir. Well, the good news is he received that company of tanks we sent for the landing. He also reports one of the Rube bomber squadrons defending the area were reassigned. I'll wager they'll show up here soon." Forsythe waved him on; the bombers could wait. "The bad news? One of the carriers we assigned to him was sunk en route."

"That won't work." Forsythe realized at once. There would have to be a lot of naval support to ensure the men got ashore safely. "Major, assign those two battleships you mentioned to Admiral Golovkin. Send a escort. There support will be crucial."

"Sir." His aid immediately pulled out a sheet and scrawled the message before giving it to once of the radio operators. Forsythe again turned his attention to the map. Each of those pins represented people: people with families, people with lives. It was Forsythe's job to ensure as many of those pins returned home as possible.

Forsythe began plotting various flanking maneuvers that would allow Lazurian forces to take control of the channel in his head. The war would no doubt accelerate in the upcoming month, and much would be lost. But at the same time, so much would be preserved.

X NRA Headquarters, Rubinelle Capital X

A young and recently commissioned Major panted up the stairs to the upper levels; the elevator was reserved for more important figures. In her hand were several disturbing reports about Lazurian units that had been disappearing off of the intelligence staff's maps.

She paused in front of the doors. "Important reports." She showed the Marines standing guard her I.D.

"Sorry ma'am," One of the Marine's took the report. "The Admiral is requesting only to be disturbed for important matters. We need to verify." His eyes scanned the paper. His partner peered over his shoulder.

"Well where the hell did they go?" He asked.

"That's just it: we don't know." She explained.

"This is definitely something the Admiral should see." He nodded and turned around to unlock the door. The two Marines escorted her into the large dining room. Admiral Greyfield looked up from the lobster he was eating.

"Yes? What is it?" He demanded.

"Important reports you need to see, sir." The Major handed over the papers. Frowning, Greyfield set down the knife and read the reports. "Considering our available manpower, our intelligence is usually very good, but no one can explain this one. Greyfield read three of the reports…and then started laughing.

"This is excellent!" He exclaimed, much to his audience's confusion. "Davis!" He yelled. On occasion, Greyfield forgot that Davis had already been sent away, but the officer now filling in showed no outward signs of offense. As the officer worked over, one of the Marines asked,

"What is it?"

"Look!" Greyfield showed the officer the reports. "Our efforts are working! Those inferior Lazurians are running from the fight!"

"But-but sir!" The Major stammered. "Our reports don't say they retreated back to the mainland! Some of us think they may be building up another front."

"Nonsense!" Greyfield shook his head. "The only front is the channel. You!" He addressed his aid. "I want orders drafted to send more troops to the channel. We can brake through their defenses."

"S-sir?" He wasn't even listening to the Major.

"All of you out!" Greyfield demanded. "I must pass on my plans to my subordinates."

"But-" Before she could argue a point, the Marines and the aid were pushing her out of the room.

"Don't bother." One of the Marines whispered. Once they were back in the hall, the professional look on his face vanished. "Biggest load of BS I've ever heard." He waved his hand. "I got back from the front last month. Those bastards don't retreat-they regroup and attack again." His companion nodded, the two sharing a memory only they knew. "Fat bastard can't see past his own nose."

"If he looks down, I bet there's something else he can't see." The two Marine's laughed. Having glanced around carefully, the aid approached the three.

"Can you guys keep a secret?"

"Maybe." The Marine said casually. "Our ears don't work quite as well as they use to." The aid grinned.

"Then I doubt you'll hear we say that the Admiral is going to start withdrawing forces from the channel."

"He's stopping this damn war?" The other Marine asked in surprise.

"But how?" The intelligence Major asked.

"He's withdrawing all regular forces." The aid explained. "He's going to put them on home duty and steal most the equipment. He's turning all the irregular forces into his own private army, going to make THEM do the fighting." His mouth curved up. "Shame you couldn't hear that. I- he started using hand signals- am going to send those orders."

The Marines had to take a minute to compose themselves to avoid laughing. "Dumbest idea I've ever heard." One scoffed.

"Those bastards are nothing but a mob with guns." The other agreed. "Not that I'm complaining. We sit here, do the work that actually needs done, and relax."

"Once those bastards get themselves killed we'll just step in again. Who knows, maybe they might be able to kill some of them." The Marine turned to the Major. "You best get going, but remember- you didn't hear anything." The Major looked life she was going to reply, but nodded and put a finger to her lips before quickly departing.

"Better them then us." One suggested.

"Better them then us." The other agreed.

XX Author's note XX

Sarah does seem to be a deep character and get a lot of character development, doesn't she? Trivial fact: she was one of the original main characters. First time around, I wasn't sure how to write a female character. I was more focused on the idea this time around; I even got the prologue and first chapter in her POV still saved. But I decided against it again. This time around, it wasn't the awkwardness; I could refer to the problem is vague terms. It was more that I couldn't get through the prologue without revealing a certain plot point (that I haven't revealed yet), and through the first chapter without revealing what happened to her. I felt these needed more build up. Besides, she does make a excellent supporting character, does she not?

Though only mentioned by name for the time being, the agent Makoto is a OC submitted and owned by user **CO Raven**, as are the rights of use.

As always, I accept OCs, criticism, suggestions, or just a friendly review.


	30. Chapter 29

X With James X

We landed at a Rubinelle AFB about fourteen hours after leaving. The reservists stationed there met our arrival with vigor. Surprisingly, they'd never actually been in the fighting, they'd just been holding the flank the entire course of the war. They actually seemed upset about that. I also noticed some of them were actually younger then the normal reservists. They had been conscripted; to them, war was still a chance for adventure. If only they knew…

For the most part, we enjoyed our temporary stay there. Our own volunteers were more then eager to talk about their combat experiences. Our pilots interacted with their fellow flyers quite a bit, though some kept to themselves. Some of our own troop did the same; socializing wasn't something some of us were in the mood for. I would've gladly talked to them if they had been veterans, since I was itching to now how the war was. But I would have to wait till we got there.

The ground forces arrived roughly a day and a half after us, and then the cycle repeated for another four days before we reached the capital. I'd never been to the Capital, but I'd seen it a lot of TV. It was easily the biggest and most heavily guarded city in the country. Laying just 120 miles from the coast and roughly in the middle of the continental Rubinelle territory, it was the center of the Government, Army, Marines, Air Force, and Navy. Everything was managed from here.

_"A year ago, being here would've been one of the proudest moments of my life."_ It would have been something I could brag about. But I had no one to brag too. A thin idea had emerged in my mind a few days ago, though I still though it too good to be true.

Maybe someone in my family had survived? A year ago, I had willingly accepted the notion without much difficultly that no one had survived. All the proof I'd needed had been right in front of me. But now knowing things were organized this well…It was possible now, wasn't it? I would have to wait and see. Seeing my parents would be something else… Seeing my aunt or my cousins would've been just as good. Someone…Anyone…

"I can't believe the place is still standing." A soldier remarked as he stared out the window. I had to agree with him; the city looked just like it always had. As long as you didn't look up, you could fool someone into thinking nothing had happened.

The helicopters landed sometimes after the planes had in a little section of the base set-aside specifically for our Air Wing.

"Welcome to Valor Air Force Base, gentlemen." A Air Force Captain greeted us.

"This base has been extended since I flew out of it." Sgt. Anderson remarked as he looked around. The base was indeed large, with nearly three dozen hangers, four runways, and three refueling stations.

"A veteran?" The Captain's voice changed. There probably weren't that many senior officers left anymore."

"Yeah, flew out of here for a few weeks when the center islands came under attack." Sgt. Anderson said.

"It's an honor." The soldier bowed.

"Stand up, damnit, I ain't special." Sgt. Anderson waved him off. The officer didn't press him. The staff there was welcoming. The pilots were also very warm to us, especially after they learned what unit we were with. It was going to take a while for the ground forces to catch up, so we did quite a bit of socializing. Though I spent a majority of my time doing something else: practicing my hand to hand and knife fighting abilities.

I found myself doing this after witnessing a transport plane landing with a certain cargo: bodies. That scene, along with the current setting and the knowledge of how things were, caused me to change in a more combative mindset.

The fact was that things were back together, and the fact was I was a solider. For the past year, I had been more focused on the protect role of my job. People were suffering, people couldn't survive on their own, and people had needed protection. A more hospital and peaceful mindset had been needed, and thus formed.

But soldiers aren't just protectors; they were killers as well. We were expected to fight any enemy of our country. I still wanted peace, and I still cared about everyone, though I also needed to fight.

The civilians were safe, but that would only stay the way it was if we fought. In a way, it was fucked up, but that's how it was. I idly wondered how the recruits were thinking. I was able to slip comfortably into this mindset because of my training, but they hadn't received the same rigorous mental training. The made good protectors, but could they be good killers?

_"I suppose I'll have to talk to Sgt. Anson about finding that out." _ I decided.

Peter found me and joined me sometime later. I revealed my thoughts on mindset and the recruits, even though his role has a field medic would always keep him on a more peaceful mindset.

"There's definitely a training gap there." He agreed, ducking a fake punch before countering with a series of swift faux ones at my stomach. Hand to hand combat was far more stressful then bullet, hence why you always wanted to shoot a enemy. For the most part, we slipped back into our training with easy.

A few of the civilian soldiers noticed, and joined. Though they'd received some training in melee combat, they didn't know most of the specialized moves we had been taught. So the two of us tried to teach them some of moves. Having not practiced daily, we were a bit rusty ourselves. More of them joined, then Sam found us. I found myself a bit jealous that he could pull them off perfectly as if he'd been practicing every hour. He was more of a nature killer then a natural protector (those being the two main breeds soldiers came in). Then Sgt. Anderson and Sgt. Anson found us, and it became a full training exercise.

Ironically, the former Coast Guard members needed more training, since their previous hadn't been primarily focused on combat. I wondered if the NRA had the same problem with mixed formations with different training?

_"NRA…why change it?" _The thought had picked its way into my mind on numerous occasions. We were all Rubinelle; we were all still soldiers before and after the meteors. Was the change even needed? To me, it just seemed like a unnecessary action.

When the groups shifted, I sought out Sgt. Anson and made a comment on my earlier thoughts.

"Fair point to note, Corporal." He had nodded. "We'll call in a D.I. (drill instructor) to evaluate them." That was right; we had joint training resources with the NRA now, even if most of the training had already been taken care of. "Corporal." He had called to me as I left. "Do not expect them to adapt too quickly."

"Yes sir." I nodded.

_"Kinda hard when It's even more important now then it was before." _

X With Tim X

I lit a cigarette and leaned against the outside of the main building, just watching the happenings on the runway. As soon as we had landed, Sarah had headed (ran like hell) to a bathroom. It was expected; it had been a long trip. Though I'd have appreciated a warning instead of turning around and finding her gone.

_"How she intends to live normal with that is something I just don't get." _Hell, I still wasn't sure how I was going to live a normal life. People skills? I've punched more people then I've introduced myself to. _"And whose fault is that?"_ I honestly wasn't sure.

"If only they did." I recognized Sarah's voice as her and Jane walked out of the building. They were both in the same boat, though Jane's case was more related to the sheer brutality of the attack. "I'll see you around, okay?" They separated. "There's always a damn line." She complained as she joined me.

"Don't care to know." I replied. She took the cigarette from me and took a drag before handing it back.

"Hurts like hell to hold it that long." She exhaled.

"Uh huh." I replied, looking around to make sure no one heard. "So…here we are." I changed the subject.

"Hard to think there's a war going on, huh? Things don't look that busy." She observed a few fighters returning from patrol.

"Things just aren't busy here, probably." I grounded out the cigarette with my boot. "Do you…uh…regret not coming here a year ago?" I asked. Seeing the city, I'd realized things were completely normal, sky be damned. Normal, just like she'd wanted.

"Nah." She shook her head. "Things wouldn't have been this way a year ago. We would've probably died already. And besides, we'd probably never had that little revelation."

"Is that moment really so special?" I asked.

"Yeah. I like how things are different now." She leaned against my shoulder. "Don't you?"

_"Aside from you being a little too open?" _Well, a little open honesty on my end seemed justified.

"Truth be told, I really don't like all the thinking and moral arguments in my head now. I liked things when they were simpler. Not that I'd change anything." I briefly put a arm across her shoulder, only after checking to make sure no one else was around.

"It'll grow on you." She assured. "I think the same thing sometimes." She admitted. "But it wasn't really helping not to keep our heads in our asses."

"Not a whole lot of good things to look up at." I reminded her.

"What about me?" She suggested. I opened my mouth, then stopped. Not quite sure on a good way to express my answer to that. Luckily, I was spared.

"Hey, I know those uniforms!" A voice called. We both turned to see someone approaching, then recoiled slightly. Though the rest of his skin was white, his face was a ugly brown color. The scars were also enough to twist your stomach. What the hell kind of crash did this guy get into to get that burned up but live?

"Glad to see there are still some attack helicopters here." It was the least rude reply I could think of.

"I'm glad to see some people who can fill in the suit. You guys Great War vets?" I wondered if I should be glad or pissed he thought we looked that old.

"Nah, we were kids when it ended." I called back as he reached us. Unless my memory was off, me and Sarah had been 13 and 12 when it ended.

"Well, you got hair on your face. Close enough." Sarah rubbed her upper lip. "I swear, the more casualties we suffer, the more civilians and kids they keep recruiting. I can't remember last time I saw someone who actually looked confident."

"We've come a long way." Sarah said stiffly.

"_All though I do miss your tomboyish behavior."_ I wonder what she'd say if I said that. She'd been acting a lot more feminine.

"Where were you guys all year? Cause I haven't seen you before. Things are close here. Everyone knows each other."

"We were actually in a group of survivors further out. We didn't hear about this damn war or government till just a few days ago." I explained.

"Damn." He whistled softly. "You guys do any fighting out there?"

"Yeah, a lot." I pointed to the scar on my face. "Though not against Lazurians that much."

"Well, you'll love it here!" He said. "Soldiers get plenty of food and comfort. Plus, there's a lot of fun stuff to do off duty." He added. "Bars, clubs, sports. Hell, there's a couple of strip clubs open too. Soldiers get VIP treatment 24/7." He patted us on the shoulder. "Once you guys get settled in, I'll show it all to you." He offered.

"_I wonder if they sell drugs to the soldiers too."_ For someone who'd seen a year of fighting, he was calm. _"Your going to die soon, live while you can."_ …Then I realized that that had been my policy before the meteors. _"Holy Shit."_

"So what types of missions are there now a days?" Sarah asked.

"Only three, really." He held up three fingers. "Garrison-In areas that haven't been attacked, but can't be left defenseless. Direct conflict- fighting out in the channel. It's real intense shit. Then there's Commando escort. That's what most of us are doing."

"Commando escort?" I asked.

"Raids on the Lazurian mainland. Any troops capable of deploying from helicopter or airplane- Army, Marines, Coast Guard- they all get regrouped into 'Commando' units and sent on raids. Attack helicopters or Navy planes usually support them. There's a really high casualty rate."

"There's helicopter troops in our formation." Sarah remembered.

"Poor bastards." The other helicopter pilot shook his head. "Come check back in with me once you guys get assigned. I'll take you on that tour." He had already started walking away.

"I wonder how long we'll have to keep soldiering before we can settle down?" Sarah stared thoughtfully at the ground.

"Who knows?" I shrugged. "…But we'll get the chance, I'm sure." I added as a afterthought. She patted me on the shoulder.

"Good thinking."

_"Great, looks like we might not be able to fight rough anymore. This better damn well be worth it."_

X With James X

"Next." The bored voice floated down the line, which moved up one space. We'd spent another two hours at the base after the ground forces arrived. And then the Captain came back with the decision: we were to assist the NRA in the war against Lazuria in a effort to preserve peace so the next generations could rebuild the world. The news had been met positively. That's what we'd all been wanting, but now we could actually contribute significantly. But first: paperwork.

Keeping a accurate database on the mortal status of nearly 5 million military personnel and then the veterans was difficult, but they were still determined to at least get a list of those still living. Since a fair portion of the Wolves was recruited civilians, there were a lot of other things to work on, but only for the higher up officers were stuck with the burden.

"Next." The voice was beginning to sound more and more like a automated message.

"Where do you think they'll send us first?" Sam asked. "I hope there's a beach in Lazuria already secure."

"That would've already broken the stalemate." I shook him off. "Considering our former unit, we'll probably get more work then the rest of the battalion."

"More for me." Sam rubbed his hands together.

_"Definitely more of a killer."_

"Next." There were about fourteen people in front of me. The line trickled on and on. I saw everyone leaving the line with a folder and something that resembled a checkbook. My curiosity only seemed to make the line go slower. "Next." My turn. "Name and unit." The clerk asked in a board voice.

"James H. Coleman. 18th Heliborne assault brigade. Currently a member of the 12th Battalion helicopter troops." I said firmly. He typed away on his computer. The printer behind him buzzed and he took the paper and put it in a vanilla folder before handing it and the 'checkbook' to me.

"Next." He called. I stood to the side and decided to look at the checkbook first. It wasn't checks; it was ration cards. Some of it was for off duty-clothes, medicine, or consumer foods. Though I had to admit some of the goods weren't something necessarily needed by soldiers.

"A individual is granted 20 bottles of beer a week." Sam read his own card.

"It was 10 bottles two months ago." A off duty clerk called behind us. "It goes up the more casualties we sustain." I frowned.

_"This…is a military government?"_ I wondered if I'd heard right. This was…unusual.

"Check out our housing orders." Peter said, pulling out a paper from his own folder. I checked mine and whistled softly.

"Are we supposed to be flattered?" I wondered. According to this, our individual unit would he staying with all of the other Special Forces soldiers-In a concrete bunker nearly 400 meters underground. Apparently knowledge in Airborne or Heliborne warfare was highly regarded. And by highly regarded, I meant they used as many resources to preserve that knowledge. This was the same bunker complex that was housing the higher up political and military figures.

"You think they'll separating the Battalion?" Sam asked. The thought hadn't occurred to me; I'd just assumed they'd let us stay the way we were.

"Hope not." Peter and me said simultaneously.

"I don't think anyone is in the mood for changing anymore things anyway." Peter said. I nodded.

"Looks like most of the unit is nearly registered." I commented. Most of the coastguard members moved through the line with the same speed. "We should at least see where our new quarters are." Peter and Sam agreed.

_"I'm as important as any special forces soldier."_ It hadn't been a mark I was aiming for…but it was a nice bonus. _"What other type of bonuses can be gained here?"_

X With Tim X

"Looks like the stuff my mom read in her magazines." Darren commented as we walked up the stairs. I had to admit, whoever in charge was damn unusual. He had most the combat personnel sleeping in civilian housing. Apparently it was to insure pilots were 'fresh and unstressed'. I thought it was just so we didn't die of wear and tear so quickly. Anyway, we had a whole floor of a apartment block set aside for us. That just left the choice of figuring out how to fit about 25 people into 10 rooms.

Sarah and me would get one to ourselves, which apparently everyone else agreed on. _"Stupid bastards."_ My face was red just thinking about it. Kim, Sofia, and Lucretia had agreed to share a room. Jane and the other female members of the bomber crews could fit into one room. Stone and the youngest members of the bomber crews would share another one.

Darren, Dominic, Lance, and Jessie somehow agreed to share one room. And the bomber crews occupied the remaining rooms in pairs or groups of three. Now was just the matter to see if everyone could get along without killing each other.

"You two behave!" Dominic called, a shit-eating grin on his face. "I actually want to get some sleep!"

"Oh well. Invest in earplugs." Sarah retorted. Dominic fell through the doorway, howling in laughter. I felt my face go red. 1. Half the people here would've heard that. 2. That was my line!"

_"…Huh. Not bad."_ I admitted to myself as we stepped through the door. Right through the door was a little hallway with a door on the right. At the end of the hallway, to the right was a large bed with sheets and blankets already on it, as well as some desks and lamps. To the left was a kitchen, with all the appliances already put in. A small TV sat on the counter.

"Place is already stocked." Sarah opened a few drawers and found silverware.

"They didn't spare many expenses…" I mused. The kitchen was pretty roomy.

_ "I wonder if they stocked any food for us?"_ Nothing but some potato chips. Eh, good enough. I grabbed the bag.

"Do you know the date?" Sarah called.

"No." I munched on some chips. "I think June?"

"According to this calendar and clock, it is 4:32 A.M, June 23rd, 1996." She called back. I scratched my chin. I think the meteors had hit May 15th… or something. I couldn't remember. "Comfy." I looked to see Sarah bouncing a bit on the bed. I sat down beside her. It was actually pretty comfy.

"Not a bad place, is it?" She asked.

"No…better then anything we've lived in before." I lay down.

"Good place to start over." She added. I sat back up.

"…Beats the street." I shrugged.

"You'll get use to it." She pecked me on the cheek.

"You know what?" I said. "I'm starting to like the new you."

"Mmmhmm." She nodded. "I'm liking the more open you." She walked over to the door we'd passed in the hall and opened it. "A bathroom." She called. "With actually privacy and a actual bathtub…I think I'll run one."

"Uh huh." I called back, scooting up to the pillows. I could've used a nap…I heard the door lock click and the water start. Then there was a knock on the door. Muttering, I got up to answer it.

"Hey man" Dominic greeted my through the crack. I tried to shut the door. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Let me speak man!" I stopped trying to crush his fingers. "I heard about a good bar, we're trying to organize a guys night out, since all the ladies will be busy buying clothes, tampons, and all that crap." I paused. The last part was probably true. Plus, it'd been a while since I'd gone drinking. Eh, what was the harm? Sarah would probably be happy to get to hang out with her own gender for a while. I could use a break myself.

"One sec." I said, and went over to the bathroom door and announced where I was going.

"Okay, be careful." She called back after a moment of hesitation. Social outings weren't something we'd done before. Still, it was 'normal' wasn't it?

"Let's get going." I walked back into the hallway."

"Hallelujah!" Dominic clapped. "Jessie bet me a beer I couldn't get you to take off the collar."

"Is that so? Remind to break it over his head." It wasn't actually a threat, just a joke. "Let's get going."

X With James X

Bland, cramped, cold, but all in all secure. The fans made it hard to remember we were underground. Nearly 50 bunk beds were laid out down the long room. The bathroom and showers were in another part of the complex. It actually resembled the shelter slightly. Everyone was picked a bunk and unloading their stuff.

"Home, sweet, home." Sam commented sarcastically. "When are we getting deployed?" He asked.

"Pretty sure we get a few days of R&R before that." I replied. We were partially responsible for helping the recruits get settled, but they seemed to be handling themselves well enough.

"This it?" A voice in the hallway asked.

"Should be." Another responded. The three of us turned around to the door as two figures stepped into the room. Both wore mostly black gear and had Silver Wings pinned on their chests, identifying them as members of the Army Special Forces Brigades. One of them walked with a slight limp, and the other was missing one of his eyes.

"Heard there were more Special Forces coming in today." The first one surveyed the room. His expression changed when he noticed a female soldier. "There ain't no women in the Special Forces." He scoffed. "Damn, and I got my hopes up."

"Corporal Coleman, 18th Heliborne." Peter stepped forward and extended a hand. "We had to train some civilians to fill our ranks." Looking a bit more cheerful, the five of us shook and introduced ourselves.

"I'm Private King, and this is Private Huebner. Green Berets, at your service." He bowed. "I've heard about your unit. You guys got balls…well, had anyway. Can't imagine these civies help you get ahead." King looked at them with clear disapproval.

_"They've been doing passably well." I thought protectively. "At least better then your average civilian."_

I opened my mouth, only to close it when Sgt. Anderson stepped in behind the two Special Forces soldiers.

"Whose bright idea was it to recruit civilians? The irregular forces are bad enough." Private Huebner muttered.

"Yeah, well these aren't civilians, they're soldiers." Sgt. Anderson stated loudly. The two Green Berets spun around, and then stepped back in surprise before looking up. "We made sure of it." He challenged them to contradict him.

"You a vet?" King asked. When Sgt. Anderson nodded, he went on. "I'll take your word for it then. Aren't many vets left, but I know they don't fuck around." They made they're way around him. "Once you guys are settled in, there's a good bar nearby you definitely need to see."

"After we get settled in." Sgt. Anderson waved them off. A trip to a bar actually sounded nice. A chance to relax a little was welcoming. So we discretely ushered them on. Some noticeably hurried because they knew what the reward was. I doubted most of them were old enough to drink…but the rules were a bit loose.

_ "They might die tomorrow. Might as well live today."_ As I eventually learned, that served as a official slogan for most of the NRA population. Things were just that bad for them.

XX Author's note XX

In most WW1 history books I read, I always read a variation of the same story: On Christmas, the Germans and Americans emerged from their trenched and spent the night in no man's land, singing Christmas songs and sharing supplies. And the next day then were back in the trenches blowing the top of each other's heads away when the chance arisen. A soldier's mind can be a volatile thing.

I'm looking forward to the parts ahead not only because of the large scale combat, but because of what I feel is needed character development on James' part. Though not a complete goody two shoes, he is in that general area of the moral compass. And his personality shifts based on the environment and circumstances, where as Tim's is more based on who the people present are.

I should also warn the following chapters will focus more on the new government, and how organized life is faring in the new world. I will also include three original battles, since it is unlikely one battalion and three battles could win a year old war.

I take suggestions, criticism, OCs, or even a friendly review if you have one.


	31. Chapter 30

X With James X

All the others behind me were talking excitedly. Most of them had obviously never been to a bar, Rockefeller and Collins probably excluded. Drinking wasn't really a bad thing. It was a way to relax and unwind from the natural stresses of the jobs. As long as they could understand that much, was there that much harm? Sgt. Anderson had allowed this, so he hadn't thought so, so I didn't either.

"Place ain't that bright looking, but just wait till you get inside!" King was saying. We'd left with most of the other Special Forces soldiers. Everyone was socializing. There was pretty much no hostility to our unit, despite most of its composition being hastily trained civilians.

"Not to shabby, eh?" Huebner elbowed me.

"Well, it's simple." I agreed. The original building front had been destroyed and, showcasing the lack of supplies, now simply had a wooden board with: BAR painted. It hung over a decaying door, which was flanked by two broken windows that allowed the mixed sound of music, laughter, and yelling to reach us.

"What are we waiting for?" Another Spec Ops soldier called. "Let's go!" I couldn't argue with that logic, so we all piled in.

"Wow." Sam waved his hand at all the smoke drifting around. My thoughts became slightly hazy.

"They let us get off with a lot now, don't they?" I asked.

"That? Nah, that's those goddamn irregular forces. A shame to the Rubinelle military!" A Spec Ops Sergeant shook his fist angrily.

"Well fuck you too, buddy." A burly, hairy man called from a nearby table.

"Don't mind them." The soldier shrugged. "Have some beer and maybe a cheeseburger. Relax. You'll need it, believe me." The Spec Ops soldiers, as well as our company, mostly scattered to their own tables. The latter preferred the company of 12th Battalion soldiers that had already found their way here.

_"I guess the Captain is letting everyone have a break."_ Though while the company scattered, we (Peter, Helen, and me) followed the Sergeant to his own table. Peter and me had agreed to find out just what to expect. Why Helen was following, I wasn't sure.

"What can I get you boys?" A smooth voice asked. I felt my face heat up when I turned to the source of voice. I turned away from the scantly clad waitress and instead pulled out the ration cards for a beer and a cheeseburger. Before I could even say it, fingers painted with red polish took it. "Be right back." I turned back. Peter was maintaining a still face, though the change in color wasn't impossible to notice. The Spec Ops Sergeant laughed.

"Don't worry about it." He said, apparently ignoring Helen's presence. "Most the NRA has blue ball syndrome." It was vulgar and direct, though I couldn't really deny it. Like I'd told myself before, romance could wait. "It gets funny watching it all after a while." He went on.

"Romance isn't exactly on the top of our lists." I said.

"Isn't on anyone else's either, but we're still guys." He glanced briefly over to the bar. "The Air Force gals are easy to court." I was reminded of the similar awkward occurrence with that 12th Battalion pilot last year. "Though I'm assuming you're the more honorable type?" He blinked.

"Yeah." I nodded. "We need to focus on the task at hand. It's pretty damn obvious we can't distract ourselves with anything else."

"It's cruel as well. You could traumatize the other person if you don't come back." Peter added. The Sergeants eyes darted back and forth briefly. The food and the beer arrived. I looked at the cheeseburger. It was covered in melted cheese and still had steam rising from it. My stomach twisted in a almost painful way and my mouth started watering. I grabbed it and took a great big bite.

"Damn!" I exclaimed through a mouthful. The taste was almost as powerful as an artillery shell. Peter said something similar. The Sergeant laughed again.

"Glad you boys like it. It's a bit hard keeping cattle and crops alive, but we manage on a large enough scale. Now, I'm sure you didn't follow me here for small talk." He was still direct. That was good. I took a sip of beer from the mug. The taste was unfamiliar and slightly bitter, but my head lightened slightly. This was strong stuff.

"So tell us how the war's been going to past year." Peter spoke first. That was a good start.

"It started right after the meteors fell." The Sergeant took a swig of his own brew. "Officers on both sides jumped to conclusions and started throwing punches. Our country is bigger, so we obviously had a advantage. We had troops on their mainland, but we got pushed out because the Lazurians rallied. Behind General Forsythe." He frowned and took another sip. "Crafty old bastard."

"The Lazurian Great War hero?" I asked in surprise. General Forsythe was infamous here for defeating Rubinelle a number of times during the Great War. He had eventually ended the war. His tactics had actually been taught in our own officer schools since then. I didn't even know he was still alive.

_"And what are the odds he survived this too?"_ If it had been anyone else, the war would be done and over. The world would be in peace. Hard to believe one man could do so much damage.

"The one and only." The Sergeant said.

"He was considered the greatest Commander alive. I guess this means he still is." Peter shook his head and took a sip of his own beer. I'd taken a few drinks of mine. This stuff was REALLY strong, probably to compensate for the lack of availability.

"Yep." The Sergeant nodded. "Once he took over, our offensive stopped and the flimsy blockade we had fell apart. We all retreated back here. Admiral Greyfield took the reins over here after that. Ever heard of him?" We shook our heads. "He was the CO of the 5th Fleet. After things went to shit, he rallied everyone together. Recreated Rubinelle, and recreated the military. We owe a lot to that man. Even if his military planning it piss poor." I raised an eyebrow at the last sentence.

"So this stalement is incompetence in commanding?" Peter beat me to it.

"Nah." The Sergeant shook his head. "A lot of his recent plans are actually decent. But the Lazurians have better ideas. Our majority in numbers and equipment is the only thing keeping us fighting. Anyway, after that, we were winning again; had a stable naval blockade and daily air raids."

"Then what happened?" Helen spoke for the first time.

"Don't have a flying fucking clue." The Sergeant contemplated, and then downed the remaining half of his mug. "All of a sudden, there were thousands of planes and hundreds of ships out there. Next thing anyone knows, there's blood everywhere and we're stuck in a stalemate. There are at least two hundred men dying daily now." He shook his head. I frowned. That wasn't excessive by normal standards, but when the population was so low already…

"Maybe we can help turn the tide in your favor?" I suggested.

"Maybe. Any help is welcomed." He didn't sound entirely convinced.

"So I take it we're not going to be treated like regular soldiers?" I asked. "I don't think we'd get a concrete bunker to ourselves otherwise." The Sergeant nodded.

"Yeah, you're now officially a Commando." He said.

"First a promotion, now a reassignment." I took another bite of the cheeseburger. "Lot of change."

"Yeah, you have no idea." He said. "Anyway, Commando units got a very important job unless their ordered to support regular units."

"Deep penetration raids?" A voice guessed.

"Sgt. Anderson, isn't it?" The Spec Ops Sergeant asked. "Word spreads quickly here. A Veteran is a big deal." Sgt. Anderson walked around the side of the table.

"Nothing to make a big deal out of." He said.

"Is to us. We need all the expertise we need." He stood up. "Sgt. Solesbee. Green Berets." He extended his hand. Sgt. Anderson shook it. "I'm sure you'll be comfortable back in the fighting." He said.

"The hell I will." He responded, catching us all by surprise. "I'd rather this damn war never started again. A man spends too much time in uniform and that's what he becomes. There's no turning back." I thought about Sgt. Anson. "Sooner this damn war is done, the safer the world will be."

"Our thoughts exactly." Sgt. Solesbee nodded. "No more Lazuria, no more war." Sgt. Anderson might've muttered something under his breath, but I didn't hear it. "But yeah, raids on their mainland. Ammo dumps, bridges and railroads, supply depots, anything. If we're lucky, the navy sends planes or helicopters to assist us."

"Doesn't sound any different then the last war." Sgt. Anderson commented.

"Not at all." He agreed. He looked at us. "And you got some pretty good men behind you."

"Damn right." Sgt. Anderson nodded. "They are the best the country has to offer now." I sat up at the praise.

"I believe it." Sgt. Solesbee replied. He stood up. "There are some other officers you might be interested in meeting."

"One more thing." I said hastily. "We had some family in the south…what are the odds they got here?" I waited tensely. Peter didn't betray any anxiousness, but the look in his eyes said it all. The Sergeant looked sympathetic.

"A lot of soldiers wonder about their family." He said. I felt a bit of dread. "All the armored divisions stationed down south came up about two months afterwards. They brought a lot of civilians with them." Past the memories of playing baseball with other kids, I did remember there had been a military base two towns over from ours. "Any civilians that show up either get conscripted or sent to work in the fields or factories to help the war effort. The database has the names of everyone here. Your best bet is to ask them." He nodded. "Good luck boys." They left.

Peter and me looked at each other. "I don't think our Grandparents would still be here." Peter admitted. I had to sadly agree with him. All four of them had been very old. It was amazing they'd lived long enough to see us become soldiers. But there was no way they could deal with the new health hazards, or traveling.

_"They'd lived a good life."_ I shook my head. Our parents had told us not to expect them to be along much longer.

"Our own parents were getting old too." I said. "They might be working in the fields."

"They're not use to extreme labor." Peter agreed. Our mom had worked at the local school as a secretary and our dad had been a salesman. They had been simple enough people. "Let's hope they made it."

"Yeah." I agreed, feeling another knot in my chest. Things seemed so close. But were they there? "Then there's our aunt and our two cousins." I said. Our uncle had died in a car crash when we were still young. Our aunt had two kids, both younger then us. "Our aunt is younger…but she has two kids. So they wouldn't conscript her."

"Yeah. Chester would be 17 this year though, wouldn't he?" Peter asked. I thought about it. Our older little cousin would've been around that age. You had to be at least 16 to be conscripted. Chester had seemed pretty interested when he found out we were going away. I hadn't seen or heard about him in a few years. Who knew how he'd changed?

"Yeah…" I sighed. Finding out I've already lost family to this war before getting here would be worse then finding out I didn't have any family at all. "Victoria would be 12 about now, wouldn't she?" Our sweet little cousin, always cheering, always happy, always annoying. She'd be turning into a young woman now…

_"I can't believe I never asked more about how they were doing."_ I felt guilty. We'd kept in contact with our parents and had known how they'd been, but not our other relatives. Even then, I focused more on my job. I'd only visited home once after enlisting, and only to see my parents for a few hours. I would never have a chance to make up for that…

_"Maybe the philosophy of duty first is wrong?" _A voice taunted me. I raised the empty mug and another card at a passing waitress, who took both. Even after one mug I was feeling pretty good.

"Rightly so." Peter said. "That's still working age." I sighed.

"I wish we'd asked about them more." I confessed. Peter downed the last of his own mug.

"I'm sure they all are still here. We'll go and talk to them tomorrow. Just wait and see!" It was one of the rare instances he sounded uncertain.

"I'm sure they're fine." Helen spoke for the first time. "If they're related to you guys, they must be tough."

"Thanks." I said. The words were reassuring. More beer arrived. Peter just exchanged a card for one already on the tray.

"Tomorrow." He said, his voice slurring slightly. "We'll apologize."

"Tomorrow." I agreed. We clinked our mugs together.

X With Tim X

We all howled in laughter as Darren collapsed backwards with the pool cue still in his hand. We were each in only about four beers and already wasted. I didn't know how they brewed this stuff, but damn it was powerful!

He stood back up and tried to take another shot at the cue ball. The surface of the pool table showed a ton of ware and tear, making it clear we weren't the first rowdy bunch here. The cue ball went soaring and hit Dominic in the gut. While he double over, the rest of us went off in laughter again.

"Fuck you guys." He gasped.

"Try not to send the ball into the air." Lance suggested. For a boring square, he could actually hold a decent amount of booze. Guy had a few funny jokes as well. He just didn't relax till there was time for it.

_"These guys…they're alright…"_ I stumbled slightly. We all turned back towards the rest of the bar crowd at the sound of catcalls and whistles. There weren't many female service members here, and what ones were had a air of agitation and defense around them. The calls ended after a meaty thud and a crash. Sarah came out of the crowd, still rubbing her sore fist. Kim followed behind her like the little lost lap dog she still was.

"Damn." Dominic murmured, momentarily forgetting the pain. I was taken a bit by surprise as well.

"Tough crowd." Sarah remarked. I didn't see her in civilian clothes often, but what ones I did where usually tomboyish, like jeans or (as a warning) sweatpants. Matching with her new feminine personality, she was wearing a blue shirt and a blue long skirt, which only reached to her knees for perhaps easy access reasons. Beautiful… Of course, she always was…she was just more now.

"Eh, nothing you haven't handled before, right?." I stood up straight. I stopped momentarily when I saw Kim. She was wearing a red blouse and a matching long skirt that went down to her ankles. A set of hair clips changed her blond hair, which had grown quite a bit in the last year, to, of all things, a bun. She actually looked beautiful. Not like Sarah, but still attractive…in the sisterly sense, anyway.

She shyly and awkwardly made her way over to the table where Eddie was. He had tagged along, regardless of his age, though only getting through half a mug before nearly collapsing. His face was even redder now.

"Perfect." I barely heard Sarah whisper. Another ploy to set them up, I guess. The pool game got back underway.

"I didn't figure you'd come find us." I said to Sarah far enough away that the others couldn't hear us.

"And let you have the fun? I like a relaxing drink occasionally too." She glanced to see if a waitress was nearby. A click of her tongue showed her disapproval at their choice of clothes. "Anyway, I got enough stuff to keep me content. You need to go get some new clothes yourself." She poked my flight suit.

"Maybe I will tomorrow." I shrugged. We watched the pool game for another few minutes till I felt a presence. Sarah must've sensed it too because she started looking around. The place was so crowded it was impossible to notice if someone was staring. We didn't have to find the person though, since he actually came up to us.

I recognized the pants as Navy issued, although he was wearing a white muscle shirt. Even though he was black, there were a lot of raw scars crossing his face in odd patterns, giving his face a almost pink color. He just stared at us, rubbing the hair on his chin. He looked maybe about 30.

"Yeah?" I asked irritably. "What the fuck do you want?" He started grinning suddenly.

"I knew it!" He pointed victoriously. The buzz I had vanished to be replaced by agitation. Sarah's hand tightened into a fist.

_"Who is this idiot?"_

"And Hussan said I was nuts. 15 years later and I _still_ recognized you two!" 15 years?

_"The orphanage. FUCK." _If I had been happy to be here before, I sure as well wasn't now. I did not want to see anyone I might've known during that time. Because everyone I'd know, had been assholes. Or crooks. Or perverts. Or all of that.

Sarah turned her head. Whether or not this had been one of the people that bullied her, neither of us could be sure.

"Still not the social type, are you guys?" He asked.

"I don't know who the fuck you area, and I don't give a shit either." I said.

"Ricky, remember? Got hauled off for drug charges when we were all about 14?" He stretched his arms out. "C'mon. You're going to tell me I didn't make a name for myself?"

"What the hell do you want?" Sarah cut to the point. He looked taken aback.

"C'mon." He whispered. "I never knew that many people. What? You're going to tell me you fit in with the regular crowd?" Those words hit home. What the hell did it matter if we fit in? Normal was goddamn overrated.

"Who's this?" Dominic looked at from the game and noticed us. Kim had also started towards us.

"Name's Ricky…three of us went to the same school." He motioned to Sarah and me.

_"School? Guess he doesn't want people to know about the orphanage either."_

"Why don't you two come over to our table?" Ricky offered. "Catch up?"

_"Catch up with what?"_ I couldn't even remember this guy. Why the hell would I want to talk with him? I looked at the uneasy smile on his face. He actually seemed scared about something.

"Alright. Sure." Sarah shrugged. He looked relieved. Ok. There had to be a point to this, so I just went along with Sarah. The others watched us curiously as we left.

"Look like good people. Still bet they're judgmental though." Ricky sounded agitated. I thought the same.

_"Okay…so we have a few things in common. Big fucking deal." _

"You owe me a beer Hussan!" Ricky called to a army soldier sitting at another table. He looked just as old and rugged, thought less scarred.

"Tim and Sarah? Damn, it is you!" He grinned and got up to extend his hand. Neither of us shook it.

"I don't remember either of you." Sarah said boldly. "Except maybe that you're both criminals and assholes."

"So maybe we were." Hussan agreed. He sat down. Something about the two of them was tugging at my memory, but I couldn't recall anything specific about their appearance, personality, or anything. The answer seemed to surprise Sarah, if only slightly.

"'Were?'" I snorted. "You're both still probably here as a alternative punishment."

"Kind of." Ricky agreed. "But it's not like you two were saints either." He pointed out.

"Hmph." Sarah sat down in one of the chairs. I sat down at one anyway. A waitress came by and we all got a beer.

"The dress surprised me." Ricky looked at Sarah. "Hell, we'd imagined you'd shave your head the way you acteeeeed." His chair, perhaps pushed by a foot, tipped back and threw him to the ground. Sarah quietly sipped her own drink.

"People change." She said simply.

_"Even if it's a sudden change."_

"Exactly." Ricky sat back up. "We've changed ourselves. Got out of Juvie when I turned 18, Hussan, me and bunch of other boys formed a little criminal group of our own. Didn't work out." He grimaced.

"He still has a bite mark on his ass from where the police dog bit him." Hussan informed us. That wasn't surprising at all. Bastards probably joined just to avoid prison. "Struck a plea and got 10 year enlistments. We tried to go straight, like you two." I stopped at the last sentence.

"You guys are kind of a role model for anyone who left that hellhole." Ricky said. "Everyone always figured you two made something of yourselves. Well, you're better off then we were." That surprised me, to be honest. Ok, I knew Sarah saw me as a role model to a certain degree. I didn't know about the other kids though.

"Hmm." Sarah didn't immediately show a reaction to that.

"I'll admit, some habits bleed through." Ricky admitted. "We ain't bad guys; Just a little rough around the edges. You guys know where we came from, you get it, right?" As much as I hated to admit it, I did get it. "The four of us, we aren't that different." I couldn't really disagree with that, either. Though I didn't admit it out loud.

"It's kinda of satisfying, being on this side of the fence." Hussan took a swig of beer…

_"Alike in more ways then one." _I guessed.

"So it is." Sarah agreed. I made a mental note to ask her what convinced her to listen to these guys. I personally didn't give a damn about how they were doing; I didn't even give a damn who they were still!

"Couple of other kids from the orphanage made it here." Ricky told us. "Funny, isn't it?"

_"Hilarious. Ha-fucking-ha." _I didn't want to see anyone else from the orphanage either.

"A lot of fighters come from our lifestyle." Hussan said. "I'm a support gunner in the Army. Ricky here is in the Navy."

"2nd Fleet Flagship _Odin._" He nodded. "I work on the flight deck, launching and catching the planes that come in. These"- he motioned to his face- "are all burn marks. I'm running around on the damn deck trying to set things up while planes are strafing the ship and sending sparks everywhere. I saw my best friend get cut in half when a cable snapped." He said grimly. "The job is dangerous."

"So you guys are helicopter pilots?" Hussan asked.

"Attack helicopter." Sarah confirmed. Ricky nodded.

"Cool. Anyway, like I said, few people from the orphanage found their way here. Julio is in the armored corps." The name didn't ring a bell. "Clayton is a Marine now. Bastard grew at least two feet since I last saw him." A blurry image of a burly teenager lifting smaller kids up while they screamed came to mind. "Retha is 'posing'-the two of them snickered-"as a prostitute in Lazuria as a agent for the intelligent services." Now that was a name I remembered.

"Wasn't she that slut that fucked half the guys in the orphanage?" Sarah asked.

"I'm amazed a disease hasn't killed her." I said. "Bitch must have everything in the book."

"Just about." Hussan agreed. "She looks horrible now." He grimaced. "I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole."

"It's not like no one expected it." Sarah said. "The staff didn't even try and stop her."

"Good point." Ricky nodded. "Blake workes on tanks now." I didn't recall that name either. I shook my head and took another sip of my beer. What was the point of this? "Myra's a navy officer now." He went on. I nearly spit my beer out.

"That little bitch is a officer now?" Sarah asked sharply, looking up from her mug.

"Yep." Ricky confirmed. He started laughing. "I swear, the time you two hooked her drawers to the flag pole and yanked her up was the funniest shit I ever saw!" Hussan started laughing too. I couldn't stop from cracking a grin either.

"She deserved it." Sarah said simply. "She was the mouthiest and meanest 7 year old I'd ever met."

"I hear that." Ricky agreed. "She acted like she was goddamn royalty or something else. Of course, she acted even worse after you humiliated her, but it was still damn funny!" He raised his mug to us. I toasted him.

"I was just helping Sarah." I said. "You're the one who suggested it." I turned to her.

"She seemed to think picking on a girl a few years older was a good idea." Sarah replied. "We were just putting her in her place."

"Yeah. She's still the same as she was then." Ricky told us. "Leads her own Flight now. Mostly girls. Pretty ones at that." Sarah made a sound that sounded somewhere between a snort and laughter.

"You okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine." She said quickly. I didn't press her. I could just asked later when we were away from these two.

"I've seen her in here a few times." Ricky went on. "Always comes to make sure her group doesn't get in trouble when they come in here. Woman's a control freak." He said. Sarah nodded.

"Thanks for the information. I still owe her something from before she left."

That something was probably a fist. Another Army soldier came over and whispered something in Hussan's ear.

"My units getting deployed. I'm out." He and Ricky did a quick fist bump. "Interesting seeing you two again." He turned to us. "Hope I'll see you guys around again?"

"Maybe." Sarah said.

_"Not if I can avoid it." _He followed the soldier away.

"I've been here a few hours. I better get going." He stood and extended his hand again. This time, we both shook it, if for nothing more then avoiding looking like assholes. "Real nice to see you two. I know you guys might be uneasy, but maybe we can get to know each other better this time around? A lot of things have changed."

_"Tell me about it."_

"I think this just proves we can all live normal lives no matter where we come from." I blinked, trying to figure out if that had been him or Sarah that had said it.

"That it does." Sarah shook his hand more vigorously. He had the same way of thinking as she did. "It works out differently for all of us."

"Yeah. I'm all right. I got a job, a woman that loves me, I even got myself a kid now." He said proudly. For the second time that night (day), my buzz vanished. Sarah was normally a calm person. Though there were those sensitive subjects that triggered a much more extreme reaction, especially if there was third party. But she didn't start crying or storm off. She did the exact opposite.

"Really?" Sarah asked with interest.

"Yeah." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture. "Not to brag or anything, but he's really special; my own flesh and blood. He made me realize this was something I could really pull off." He might as well have been arming a bomb with every word.

"How cute." She commented. I looked at the baby smiling in the picture.

"Yeah…" He shook his head. "Like I said, I better get going. See you guys around!" He made his way towards the exit.

_"Bye. And thanks a lot, asshole."_

"Interesting, wasn't it?" Sarah turned me.

"I still don't know the guys. I don't know why I should try to either. Why did you listen to them?" I asked.

"I was just thinking…If they managed to live normal lives, that means we could too, right?" I hadn't though about it like that. They were worse then us, and they managed.

"Hell, by that standard. We can do a hell of a lot better." I agreed.

"Exactly." Sarah nodded. "I think I'm going to head back to the apartment." She turned to stand up.

"Hold on." I grabbed her shoulder. I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "You're okay…right?" I whispered. The fact that she didn't even frown during the later part of the conversation didn't sit right.

"Can we talk about that later?" She asked me point blank. "He just made me think about something…but I need to think about it a bit more. Alone." I wasn't sure what she could possibly be thinking about…but I did respect her wish.

"…Fine." I let go of her shoulder. "Are we going to seriously try and get to know them?" I changed the subject to something different but still important.

"Why not?" Now she frowned. "We have a lot in common with them. You just don't like to admit it, huh?" Figures she'd turn it back on me.

"I don't get why they're acting so damn happy to see us. It's weird."

"Everyone who came out of that place is weird in one way or another." She reminded me. I couldn't find a counter argument to that. She patted me on the shoulder. "See you back at the apartment?"

"I guess." I shrugged. She left. I sat there for a few more minutes for no particular reason before going back to the pool table. Too much was happening too fast, and it was making my head spin. On top of everything else, now there was those two that I still didn't know that much about, and Sarah might have a revelation or something.

Why wasn't life that easy for me? Those two delinquents had their own life they were proud off, and everything seemed to turning into what Sarah had always secretly hoped for. What was so good about this for me? Comfort? It was actually kind of relieving to know I had a cozy apartment to go too if I was tired. But it wasn't a fair enough trade for all the shit I had to put up with.

"Where's Sarah?" Kim asked me as soon as I got back.

"Decided to call it a early night." I told her.

"What about that friend of yours?" Darren asked.

"We talked a bit. I don't remember the guy too much to be honest." I watched as they re-racked the balls. They didn't ask any more questions. At least they weren't that interested in something that wasn't their own business.

"You up for a game?" Daren offered me the pool stick. I took it and went to stand on the other night of the table. I'd come here to relax damnit, and Sarah could look after herself. I had to try and take some of the stress off. We'd get deployed sooner or later.

When I stumbled to the apartment a few hours after that, I expect maybe some signs of distress. Though when I entered, there were no holes punched into the wall, nothing thrown from its original position, or anything else. Sarah was sleeping peacefully just like any other night. Maybe she finally got over the whole thing? I'd be happy if she had.

Though what she wanted to talk about had to be related to the subject. Eh, I'd worry about it tomorrow. A lot of things could wait till tomorrow.

X Western Rubinelle X

The deserts of western Rubinelle had been feared for hundreds of years. In early times, they proved extremely difficult to cross, thus limited trade or communication between the entire landmass. The sun and heat had a profound effect on humans. Regardless of any color their skin had been before, any man or woman to spend more then three weeks in the landscape developed a near permanent tan color that could not be found anywhere else in the whole wide world.

At the turn century, it was learned the desert held much wealth in underground resources, though these resources had been difficult to harvest for several decades till technology caught up.

In a mere two decades, the desert had gone from a death trap to a land of prosperity. The oil profits were nearly a billion weekly all together. This barren landscape was the lifeline of the entire population and the military.

But aside from oil wells, military bases had also dominated the landscape. Airstrips had been spread plentiful. Massive barracks had also spread around to house soldiers and their vehicles. Man made rivers led to massive naval bases built in the middle of the desert; a fail safe in case the dozens along the actual coast fell. Anti Air Missile batteries had once scattered the landscape in the most random places. And Anti Air Tanks were stationed near almost every field. In all, 37% of the Army, 12% of the Marine Corps, 27% of the Air Force and 20% of the Navy had been assigned to defend this landscape alone. All together, nearly a quarter of the entire Rubinelle military had once been here. That had been before the meteors.

The meteors had destroyed over 80% of the oil wells, and nearly 72% of the forces stationed there. Whole bases and airstrips were destroyed. The artificial rivers and canals had dried up. Ironically, the bland landscape had acted to save many of the lives there. The same could not be said for the planes destroyed or the ships oddly sitting in the middle of a sandy wasteland.

The region had since been set back on a path resembling normal. The limited manpower available was working the remaining oil wells. Ironically, there were many that were in working condition but un-man able due to the shortages. The remaining military forces, reinforced on a small scale with survivors from other regions, had set up smaller though no less effective defenses.

The primary defensive lines were set beyond the range of coastal assault. Long lines of trenches and dug in tanks guarded artillery and AA that had a range nearly to the coast. This defense against frontal assaults was all that was immediately needed. To the east were regions guarded by other Rubinelle forces, and in the west the massive earthquakes had torn the earth apart, creating massive crevices no man could hope to cross. That meant the enemy could only directly assault the desert with a amphibious landing.

Behind the main line were other smaller lines, less equipped with machines and more with men. A mountain line was the last defense to the oil wells that had been fixed. On the beaches on the coast, there were smaller trenches and smaller artillery positions. They would allow the main line time to prepare. The line itself would've gotten a warning from the navy and coast guard vessels still patrolling the region. The defense as a whole was very thorough and very effective.

Effective, though, was not a substitute for invincible.

XX Author's Note XX

References to the other story already? I actually had Myra's character already thought of long before, though in a different role. I thought she'd make a good parallel to Greyfield, so I switched a few things around. I also planned a series of subplots for James' side concerning a group of carrier pilots. The idea snowball kept rolling and rolling and boom. Before I knew it, I had a entire cast of characters to use for another story.

Yes, I'm doing an original battle right off the bat. Certainly small changes must be made for the sake of the over all story. Besides, it's more then likely the 12th was involved in more fights then what was shown.

I revised the 2nd part countless times. The prologue already says they've adjusted to more calm personalities and lifestyles. Though actually writing the transition is difficult. It can't be too sudden and it needs solid triggers to push it along.


	32. Chapter 31

XX Author's Note XX

I know this is a departure from the actual order of events of the game, but it's not like it changes the entire course of the plot. It's just a minor change of events for the sake of the over all established plot and setting I created.

X The Channel X

The still water was pushed aside as the battleship RNS _Wellington_, named after a famous Admiral dead nearly 100 years, pushed through the water. The 12 main guns of her batteries were at rest and the crew walked aboard with leisure. Sailing on each corner of the ship were the Cruisers _Maverick, Hyde, Bell, and Wilkins,_ likewise named after notable people in the history of Naval Warfare, to guard against any possible submarine action.

Though the lasting fighting had dwindled the numbers, Rubinelle and Lazuria still had 27 and 33 battleships respectively. And with little means to replace the great ships or their crews, the existing ones were guarded fiercely.

The current patrol, formed of repaired ships from what had once been the 4th NRA fleet, was responsible for patrolling the waters off the coast of the vast west deserts. Also patrolling this region was another battleship and a carrier, each with their own escorts. Gunboats, Destroyers, and Frigates also formed small groups to this effect, though not nearly packing as much firepower. In all, about 32 ships and 17 gunboats guarded the coastline. Not much by previous standards, but now it was considered more then enough to deter the enemy.

In the bridge of the great battleship, its Captain, Alec Rushdan, watched the empty horizon with little interest. Having graduated officer school only right before the disaster, he was not trusted with bigger missions or riskier areas. He was quickly becoming agitated that the war would end while he sat here and collected dust.

"Captain!" One of the communication officers said urgently. "The _Bell_ and the _Wilkins _have detected a enemy submarine closing in quickly." The Captain narrowed his eyes. Those damn Lazurians were trying to take his ship!

"Sink it." He ordered. "Quickly. And what happed to our own submarine?" While the officer relayed the message, another attempted to reach the submarine in question.

"Sir, we can't contact our own submarines." The latter reported. Rushdan mulled over this. The enemy had probably sunk it.

"Sir! Radar just lost sight of the sub. ASROC systems can't get a lock onto it!" The officer reported frantically. "They're trying to locate the target!" Now he stiffened. One torpedo alone could do serious harm to his ship.

Fire started outside. But not ship fire, anti-air fire. Before Rushdan could ask, with a shill whistle there was an explosion and the ship shook violently, throwing its crew down. As a sailor helped the Captain up, automatic alarms started going off.

"What the hell just happened?" He demanded. He looked out the bridge window. The_ Bell _and the _Wilkins _were on fire and sinking fast. The black smoke drifting past the window told him his own ship was also on fire.

"Unknown at this time!" One of the few officers still at his post said.

"Sir, the ships center has been hit. There's a fire spreading quickly. It could find the ammo stores any minute now." Captain Rushdan looked at the screen. He secretly felt dismay at the large swaths of his ship in red, but swallowed it. He had to set a example.

"Give the order to abandon ship." His words temporarily stunned the crew. "She's past saving. Give the order." He retreated. Nodding in painful regret, the officers sent the order out to the rest of the ship. While they themselves left, he stayed. A Captain was either always the last off the ship, or always the one to go down with it. Though before that, he had one last duty.

"All NRA forces defending the desert region." He readjusted the radio to broadcast to ever other Rubinelle radio. "The enemy may be launching a attack on the region, all units be on your guard." He turned off the radio.

He walked calmly over to the window and watched below as sailors jumped into the water to swim to safety. His eyes caught something strangely out of place with the rest of the metal floating around. He had to lean against the window and stare before he could confirm that it was what he had thought: a missile, or the remains of the body of one. His eyes narrowed even further.

Though Rubinelle was experimenting with the technology, Lazuria was the first and only country with ballistic missiles. However, they were uncontrollable after a certain distance, so all of Lazuria's were stationed in silos on the mainland as a means of defense in case of invasion. But there was no way they could hit his ships all the way out here.

Unless Lazuria placed them on islands in the channel or, worse, they could've improved the design. Both thoughts were very unpleasant. He had to relay this information to high command immediately.

But before he could reach the radio again, a explosion caused the ship to lurch suddenly. Captain Rushdan was thrown into one of the terminals and knocked unconscious.

Outside, sailors were hastily leaping into the water to swim to the two remaining cruisers. Though the sinking cruisers had only been hit with one projectile, the battleship had been hit with two, causing extreme damage. The fire was still spreading inside and out of the ship.

In a quick leap, the flames found the front battery and detonated. The ship was nearly blown in two as rear battery detonated as well. Several sailors were blown off the ship and into the water. Some limp, flaming bodies even flew over the cruisers. While the ship itself began to sink, more flaming heaps on metal fell off and into the water, crushing several fleeing sailors in their path.

On the Cruiser, all of the lookouts were transfixed on the sight before him. Just like that, the ship they had been willing to die to protect was gone. One, unable to see his failure any longer, turned around. To a much more unpleasant sight.

His eyes widened in disbelief at the shapes on the horizon. His crewmates also saw the sight. It was then that they realized: this wasn't a attack, it was a full blown invasion.

X

"Attention Gail flight." The controllers voice rang through the cockpit of the four F-15s. "Possible enemy action in the vicinity. Change course South East and report any sightings. Over."

"Eh, copy." The flight lead responded. "Well shit." He cursed when the radio clicked. "C'mon guys, lets go see what's got their panties in a twist." The four pilots of the flight were one of the many groups of young men rushed through training to fill in gaps in the line. Between all of them, they'd probably been training for only 30 hours.

The lack of experience did not have a effect on their attitudes however, hence their carefree attitude as they flew from their normal patrol route. "They probably picked up a flock of birds or something." The Flight lead went on. "The enemy hasn't been spotted in this region for…what the?" He froze as he looked at his radar. "This thing broken?" Far beyond visual range, the radar showed nearly three-dozen dots.

"That doesn't look good…" Gail 3 said uncertainly.

"Uh…there might be a few enemy ships out here, command." The flight lead reported into his radio. "We'll check it out, hold on." The fighters increased their speed. Eventually, specs appeared over the horizon, and quickly became ships. "Oh shit." The flight lead breathed. "C-command. There's a whole fleet out here!" The planes quickly jerked around in the other direction.

"What is its composition?" Command demanded.

"Most of the shapes look flat…landers?" Gail 4 suggested.

"I'll go in for a closer look." Gail 2 volunteered. This suggestion was met with discouragement from his teammates.

"They'll chew your plane up!" Gail 3 warned.

"Ain't worth it." Gail 4 agreed.

"They need to know." And with that, the F-15 turned back towards the hostile fleet. As he got closer, the young pilot did see that most the ships were, in fact, landers. He also saw something else. "Command!" There's a carrier here, and five cruisers." The six aforementioned ships let lose with their AA armaments. He rolled and veered to the right. "There's two frigates, the rest are landers!" As the last word left his mouth, the AA fire found him. Between the hundreds of speeding, heavy bullets and the exploding fuel tank, only small pieces of shrapnel made it into the water.

X

"Incoming!" The Marines taking cover in the foremost trench covered their ears as even more sand rained down on them. There may have only been 2 battleships, but it sure as hell seemed like there were more then that.

"Get ready!" A Marine looked over the edge of the trench to see the cruisers, destroyers, gunboats, and landers all coming to the shore. "Lazurian Naval Infantry will be on us in a second!" He drew his combat knife. All along the trench, other Marine's either drew theirs or attached bayonets to their rifles. And with a fierce war cry, they were upon them. Several Lazurians leapt into the trench, others jumped over it to the smoking ruins of the artillery and anti-air vehicles there.

Blood splattered over the yellow sand as the men fought. Cries of pain and shouts of victory rang in the air. In a underground post that was a extension of the trench, the Lieutenant in charge was trying to alert other forces while his two guards tried to hold a file cabinet in the gap so the enemy couldn't get in.

"Infantry and armor with naval fire support. Possibly 5000 men." The Lieutenant looked up at the sound of jet engines. "They have air support as well." Someone began trying to push the file cabinet from its place. The two guards held it firmly in place. "Relay the information to the Capital." The hammering stopped. "We can not hold this position, I repeat, we cannot-

A Lazurian RPG hit the file cabinet. The blast knocked the guards to the floor. The file cabinet smashed into the unfortunate Lieutenant with lethal force and destroyed the table and the radio. Lazurian soldiers stormed in and shot the guards before they could even reach for their guns. After a brief sweep, they began searching for intelligence. The Squad Leader took particular interest in a map detailing the paths for a safe retreat to reinforce other lines.

"Relay to Admiral Golovkin, we've captured some enemy orders." He said over his radio. "These should allow us to tear the enemy defenses completely apart."

X With James X

"4th floor, this is it." I looked at the faded paint and jumped the last two steps to the landing. We woken up with rather bad headaches, and that only after one and a half beers; we'd spent most the night enjoying the food. After a bit of grumbling, we'd remembered we had set a task for ourselves today.

Aside from the prospect of seeing family again, we had also been keen to avoid to group of sour-faced Drill Sergeants we'd seen heading for our quarters as we left. I guess Sgt. Anson had called a whole DI team to whip the recruits into the shape of a Special Forces Soldier. It would help in the long run. Though they'd probably be pissed we hung them out to dry if they found out.

Our first stop had been the records office. They had actually been very helpful and understanding with our request, even though they showed plain displeasure in their employment. We learned that Chester was indeed still alive, as a pilot for the Marine's stationed on some island way out in the channel. Our aunt and Victoria were here too, both of them assigned to helping produce war materials for the troops. Unfortunately, they found no records of our parents. I didn't lose hope though, since I heard that not all the troops stationed near our home had shown up, instead staying to help the thing to recover. While that could mean they didn't survive, it could've also meant they were alive in a recovering community like the one we'd established the year previous.

_"As soon as the wars over, I'll hitch a ride down there." _All I could do was hope. But it was still possible, wasn't it?

"47…48…here's 49." Peter brought me out of my trance. We both stood in front of the door. I felt a uncomfortable churning in my stomach. This is where they were living now…

_"I wonder how they'll react to seeing us?"_ I'd be glad to see them, just to know we weren't the only bloodline left. Peter and me glanced at each other, a silent test to see who would knock. It was strange how the situation seemed daunting, though it might've been the change of mindset; a few weeks ago, I didn't believe anyone else in my family was alive. I exhaled and knocked on the door. Only about 10 seconds past before the knock started turning. A curious pair of green eyes peeked out from the slit of the door.

With a cry of joy, Victoria jumped out of the doorway and wrapped herself around our legs.

"Hey kiddo." Peter rubbed the top of her head. She was definitely taller, though she still had the long black hair that ran in the family. She looked up at us with a great big smile.

"But they said you guys weren't here!"

"We just got here a few days ago." I grinned back at her. "You've grown." She started giggling.

"Mom!" She ran back into the apartment. "Come see who's here!" Victoria had changed since I last saw her, but I still recognized her. But I found it difficult to believe the woman who came to our door was our aunt. I remembered my aunt as a short women with golden hair, a radiant smile, and always positive.

But the woman who came to the door was not smiling. In fact, the gray strands of hair made her appear old, tired, and fragile.

_"What happened to her?"_ I felt a pang. The situation put stress on everyone; some worse then others.

Her tired eyes widened and the glass she was holding crashed to the floor. There was a shocked moment of silence before she stuttered, "Sorry! Come in, please!" She used her shoe to push the shards out of the doorway. She retreated back into the apartment. Victoria dragged us both in and motioned to the couch. Our aunt rushed past us with a broom and a dustpan to the doorway. Victoria managed to wedge herself between us.

"Where were you guys? Are my aunt and uncle with you? Have you fought yet?" She fired off questions rapidly.

"Victoria!" Our aunt snapped sharply, causing all _three_ of us to flinch; she'd never been a temperamental woman. "Don't annoy them so much. Remember your brother."

"Sorry." She said sheepishly. Our aunt passed with the glass picked up and then came back a minute later. She collapsed wearily into a arm chair and put her hand over face. She sighed and stood back up.

"It's so great to see you boys." She hugged both of us. "This is such a relief."

"It means a lot more to us." Peter assured her. Victoria left and came back with four glasses of tea. She distributed a glass to everyone before plopping back down between us.

"Do you boys know anything about your parents?" Us being here gave her hope that her sister was still alive, hope that we could not live up to. We both shook our heads sadly. She nodded in pained acceptance.

"But we don't know for sure. No one's been down there yet." I tried to cheer her up. She didn't look entirely convinced.

"We survived." Peter interjected. "There's a saying about that our new CO told us a year ago."

"Where there's life, there's hope." The saying jumped to the front of my mind in a brilliant leap. Her eyes were closed, but I could've sworn I saw some of the lines on her face fade.

"Did you guys just get here?" Victoria asked.

"When we asked, they said you never showed up. We all thought you were dead." Our aunt added.

"We just got here." I explained. For the next several minutes, Peter and me alternated between telling our journey up to this point. Victoria's eyes sparkled with a sense of adventure, where as our aunt seemed mortified with every passing detail.

"So you're a commander now?" Victoria asked during our recollection of the most recent battle.

"We're officers." Peter nodded.

"It's a miracle you boys survived." Our aunt said. "I can't believe people could degrade to such savagery."

"They won't bother anyone anymore. We made sure of that." I nodded. "Enough about us. How have you guys been? We heard Chester is a pilot now." Our aunt sighed.

"He joined over half a year ago. He's only visited once since then. When he was here-I could barely recognize him. My own son…" Her eyes were full of sadness. "He was so angry, so agitated…He stormed out after a argument and we haven't seen him since." I tried not to bite my lip.

Stress was part of the job. Considering the new environment and conditions, the stress had to be even worse. Not to mention he still was only a kid.

"You guys won't turn out like that…will you?" Victoria looked fearful.

"No." I shook my head firmly. "We knew what to expect when we signed the contract."

"We're not going to back out or show regret." Peter assured her. "And we won't take out our frustration of family."

"If you boys see him, please task to him for us." Our aunt pleaded. "We miss him." I promised that we would. We talked for what was easily hours, about what had happened, about what would happen, and what we planned to do. The war was close for everyone, even civilians. They had done nothing to deserve the stress and the danger they now lived in. They were tired, they were scared that each time they went to bed that they'd never wake up. And for the sake of what? A little bad blood?

_"Lazuria has to be stopped."_ I realized. _"For their sake."_

X With Tim X

_"Agh, son of a _bitch_." _I woke up with that was easily the most painfully hangover headache I'd ever experienced. _"What the hell happened last night?"_ All I could immediately remember was we'd gone to the bar.

It was bullshit. I'd drunk a lot more then 6 beers and had been more then fine the next morning.. Then I remembered where I was. _"They probably spice it with something to keep the troops in a mindless trance."_ I groaned and rolled over…right onto the floor. Rather then mutter one of the dozen curses on my tongue, I just pushed myself up.

5 minutes later, I had my face pressed against the surface of the table while my hands were wrapped around a hot cup of coffee. Rather then pain, the sensation provided by the heat actually seemed to clear my head.

I flinched in agony at the sound of the door opening and closing. "Hangover?" Sarah's voice reached me. For some reason, I just now realized she was missing. "The others are having the same reaction."

"My head hurts like hell and I don't remember shit from last night." I groaned. "What the hell do they put in that stuff?"

"I heard you have to build up a new tolerance." She patted my shoulder on her way to the kitchen. "So you don't remember?" She asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Bits and pieces." I muttered. "I think we saw two people last night from the orphanage?" I could remember that bit pretty clearly; enough to where I'd hoped it was just a bad dream.

"Yeah, they said they'd gone straight." Sarah crushed my 'dream' wish.

"As long as they don't talk shit about us or where we come from, I don't care much." I sat up, wincing at the pain in my head.

"Hmm." She sat down on the opposite side of the table. She pulled out a pamphlet and started reading it while I rested my sore head on the table. Any attempts to recall the previous night were met with a stabbing pain in my temple.

_"Fuck it. I'll try tomorrow." _A hammer hit the back of my head. Or at least it felt like that when some asshole started blowing a whistle outside.

"Up! Get up!" A fist banged at the door, causing a even worse headache.

"I'll go look." Sarah volunteered. I watched her leave out the door before setting my head down. I paused for a moment and then lifted it back up when my eye caught one of the section headings on the pamphlet: RISKS. My mind was a bit sluggish, so I was unable to fit this piece into any puzzle. "Damn. Get up." Sarah came back over, sweeping up the pamphlet as she did. "Whole Battalion it being put on alert. We might be getting sent out soon."

"Damn it." The last thing I wanted to do right now was fly. I pushed myself up, reluctantly. _"What the hell happened?"_ I wearily stumbled towards the door. The messenger and his bell had already left, but the others were already awake, most of them sporting even worse hangovers. Eddie and Dominic couldn't even make it to the hallway.

"What the hell could be so important that our vacation gets cut short?" Jessie was using the doorframe to hold himself up.

"The tide of war can change rapidly." Stone stated as he walked past us down the hall. "My guess? Lazuria just pushed the tide in their favor." He descended down the stairs.

"That man never stops surprising me." A kid from the bomber crews remarked.

"Old man's seem a lot of shit. Soldier's wisdom." I pointed out.

"I'll have to ask him about that later." Darren said. "He must have a lot of good stories."

"If we are getting deployed, he'll likely have a lot more to tell." Sarah said. "We all probably will. Assuming we survive." She whispered the last part so that only I could hear her.

_"We'll survive. We haven't come this far to lose everything."_

X NRA GHQ X

"UNACCEPTABLE!" Greyfield roared, slamming his fist onto the display. "How did they gather these troops under our noses? I want the person responsible hanged!" The display was a scale model of the desert region, using pins and blocks to represent troops. Unfortunately, there were far more blue ones grouped together then the red ones spread thinly.

"Well s-sir," The intelligence Major stuttered, "we believe most of the forces actually departed from the mainland."

"It doesn't matter where they came from." One of Greyfield's guards said. "What matters, is that we got all our forces in the channel pinned, a all out assault on our fuel source, and few spare units to reinforce either front. I ain't an officer, but that sounds damn bad."

"Those chumps certainly pulled a good one." Waylon admitted grudgedly. His normal cocky grin was replaced with an uneasy one. The door on the other side of the room opened and closed. "Well, Captain Courageous and his Cabin boy are here." He observed. Greyfield looked up, seeing Brenner and his Lieutenant coming across the room to them. He could care less for the two kids following him.

"Brenner! I sent for you half an hour ago!" Greyfield fumed. If Brenner had any response to Greyfield's impatience, he didn't show it.

"What's the situation?" He asked calmly. He looked down at the model map.

"Lazuria launched an invasion of the deserts about 14 hours ago." Davis explained. "They also pinned down our forces in the channel. We don't have any reserves to reinforce either front."

"So where are you deploying us?" Brenner jumped straight to the point.

"The desert." Greyfield said at once. "We can not let those inferior beings take away our fuel source. I want your entire battalion there by tomorrow!"

"The journey would likely take 3 days, at the least." Lieutenant Lin stated, clearing challenging Greyfield's demand.

"Just get there before we lose the region then!" Greyfield was clearly running out of patience with the matter. Brenner looked down at the map.

"How many casualties have been sustained so far?" He asked.

"So far? About 4 thousand on our side…" Davis admitted reluctantly. Brenner shook his head.

"Going by our best estimates," The Intelligence Major stepped forward. "The invasion force consists of one armored division and one infantry division. There's also a brigade of Lazurian Naval Infantry that had served as a spearhead. There's several artillery companies attached to each division, and each is supporting by several attack helicopter squadrons. We don't have good figures on their air power or naval presence yet."

"And our one battalion is expected to face them?" Lieutenant Lin asked coldly.

"There are still 15 thousand NRA troops there." Davis said.

"And I'm flying out there in a few days." Waylon boasted. "They won't know what hit them!" He jabbed a thumb on his chest.

"I have personally dispatched the 2nd Fleet the break Lazurian naval presence in the area." Greyfield said stiffly. "My troops will not fail. Your battalion must simply hold off the enemy till they prepare." Brenner didn't immediately respond to this. The intelligence Major handed a rolled up map to Lin.

"This is a map of the region and the established fortifications." She explained. "It should help." Lin nodded. "There's nearly a third of the entire Lazurian military there. This battle could turn the tide of the war."

"Now move!" Greyfield said impatiently. "Every second you are here is another second those dogs soil our proud land!" Brenner simply responded with a nod of his head and left. Greyfield watched as the four figures left. "Who were those two children following them?" Greyfield said once the door closed.

"Aw, hell, the kid's his cabin boy." Waylon waved off the question. "Not sure who the girl is. His own play toy maybe?" He shrugged.

"His names Will, he was a cadet at officers school. I understand that he's been commanding small units of the 12th Battalion in the past few operations." The Intelligence Major quoted the file they'd amassed on the unit.

"Commanding at his age? Quite a feat." Greyfield mused. He was not one to normally hand out praise. "Quite interesting…"

XX Author's Note XX

For those who don't know, ASROC is a acronym for Anti-Submarine Rocket, a missile delivery system the US Navy installed on it's Cruisers, Destroyers, and Frigates in the 60s and upgraded continuously into the 90s. All Cruisers in the game seem to be modeled after it.

Anyway, same drill: leave any suggestions, criticism, or ideas you may have, or just a friendly review.


	33. Chapter 32

X With James X

"Copy 12th Helicopter Wing, we're waiting for you." The radio tower reported.

"Thanks for that. We'll be touching down momentarily." Carpenter shut off the loud speaker. I turned and looked out the window to the landscape. The desert, filled with hills of sand, giant rocks, canyons, and small mountains. It was one of the most unforgiving terrains to wage war on. And it would be here that we would fight Lazuria.

_"I wonder if we're bad luck."_ For some reason, Lazuria chose to launch a massive offensive the same day we arrived. Superstition was too weak a word. Worry was also a weak word. Secretly terrified fit better.

Like I said, desert warfare was one of the most difficult. Aside from the difficulties of sustaining a large force, all fighting would usually been in the open. Sure there were trees and mountains, but they were few and far in-between; there weren't enough defensive positions to go around. During the last Great War, the deserts had seen the most casualties.

The DI team wasn't miracle workers; the unit was still inexperienced, now even more then they'd been a year ago. They had no concept of fighting in this environment, now an enemy this organized. But odds were we wouldn't see too much direct action. Tanks, artillery, and planes dominated the open landscape environment of this war mostly.

Which begged the question why all officers were called almost immediately to the base commander's office. We weren't the only ones; the Air Wing Commander was there as well. The naval forces would catch up tomorrow, and the ground forces the day after..

"Gentlemen." The base commander nodded respectfully as the six of us entered. "I'd ask you your names, but there isn't time for that." He slammed a map down on the table. "There isn't time for shit anymore."

"What do you need, Colonel?" Sgt. Anson cut straight to the point.

"I need men." He answered. "But most of mine are either dead or tied up. I'd let you guys rest till the rest of your force arrived, but there isn't time. I need a quick reaction force _now._" He put emphasis on the word.

"Not enough time to stretch." Sam complained as he looked at the map.

"No time to sleep either. Now look." The Commander pointed at a river on the map. "There are three small rivers that cross the landscape. We don't use this river for much, except for moving small amounts of supplies. There were two gunboats stationed there, but now, the enemy has control of the river."

"Which gives them a perfect corridor to fuck us up the ass." Sgt. Anderson traced his finger along the river and then where the defenders were. I followed it. Indeed, it would allow the enemy to bypass a mountain range that otherwise barred their path.

"Right. We would place artillery near the rivers to block them- but we ain't got any to spare." He shook his head. "The other rivers aren't the problem now, this one is. We can not let the enemy have it."

"Just tell us what we need to do." Sgt. Anson nodded.

"We had a small camp alongside the river, a temporary port of sorts." He explained. "It has gas, a repair crew, and quarters for the guard detail. Without it as a refueling and repair point, and without control of it's defenses, you can't use the river."

"Defenses?" Sgt. Anderson asked.

"Two old anti-tank guns from the last war are stationed there. We were going to move them, but lost control before we can. The base is around the bend, so the guns can be a nasty surprise to any ships that go there. The mission is simple: regain control of the port, preferably intact."

"There's are ridges that run along the river and behind the base. That can be used to our advantage." Sgt. Anson deducted quickly.

"Right. Insert by helicopter, move up, eliminate the personnel and take control of the guns. If you slot the enemy crews, I'd appreciate it. All gunboats use the same fuel and ammo, both of which we could use."

"Where does my force stand in this?" The Air Wing Commander asked.

"Ah, you guys just got here, right? Ever heard of a skimmer?" The base commander asked. The Air Wing Commander shook his head. "It's a boat, fast, lightly armored, and teaming with AA guns. These goddamn things have shot down a lot of planes since they got here." He shook his head. "Once these boys take them out, you need to move in fast. The enemy will definitely try and take it back."

"I'll alert my pilots." He turned to us. "I'll detach Buzzard 7 to give your men fire support."

"Let me stress gentlemen, these bastards got more then twice as many men as we do. Everyone of them dead is a great help."

_"They won't escape while I'm there."_

"We'll move out immediately." Sgt. Anderson assured. It was only once we were out of the room that he sighed. "We're against the wall."

"I don't care where we are." Sam un-slung his rifle. "They're not holding that port." He flipped off the safety.

"Control yourself, Corporal." Sgt. Anson warned.

"Save it for the enemy." Sgt. Anderson agreed. "Now go deliver the news to the troops, we'll go brief the pilots."

"If they keep tearing at our flank, the whole thing can come apart." Peter commented.

"Our whole point being here is probably to guard the flank." I suggested. We hadn't even been at the barracks ten minutes after visiting our aunt before a messenger brought us news that we were being deployed. "It's clear the situation is hanging by a thread." We looked ahead.

The entire unit was waiting on the runway with their equipment already unloading and resting at their feet. _"They're not going to like the news. But sometimes you got to sacrifice." _

"Up two! We got ass to kick people! Up two!" Sam was clapping his hands. The unit looked at him in confusion. I sighed and stepped in front of him.

"Kit up. We have a new mission. We can rest afterwards." I explained. There was muttered protest, but everyone got up.

"If we don't complete our objective, our beds are liable to be attacked." Peter chipped in. Some of the complaining stopped. Some.

"My legs are cramped all to hell and now this? That bed better be damn comfy!" Sgt. Carpenter said loudly as he went for the cockpit.

_"At least we'll be able to sleep knowing we did some good already instead of being anxious."_

X 1 Hour Later X

"Let's go over the plan again." Sgt. Anson flipped the safety catch off his rifle. Everyone else followed suit. "Our helicopter will assault the port from the South, the other will from the North. We'll move along the ridge till we find the port." Everyone nodded as he went along. "We'll neutralize all combat personnel and any of the boat crews. We are also tasked with destroying any enemy anti-aircraft vessels. Avoid firing anywhere near the fuel tanks." He warned. Again, everyone nodded. "The plan may change at any given time. Enemy reinforcements will likely be on standby to recapture the facility. Our air resources will take care of it from there. Any questions?" There were no questions.

"This is the drop off point. You guys will have to hike the last 2 miles to get there." The helicopter descended.

"Good luck." The crewmember gave us a thumbs up as the ramp went down.

"Things go south, we're expecting you to get us the hell out of here." I said.

"We will." He nodded. We all disembarked and fanned out to secure the area.

"This is team 1. Our landing zone is secure." Sgt. Anson reported.

"Team 2 is good." Sgt. Anderson replied.

"Move out." Sgt. Anson ordered. The platoon quickly moved over the rocky ground. Surprisingly, 35 soldiers silhouetted in red on top of ridge did not attract attention.

_"The enemy must not have forces mobilized here yet."_ I thought. _"Better send a clear message not to then." _I gripped my rifle tighter. It was several minutes of hiking before the before the target came into sight. Sgt. Anson motioned every one to the other side of the ridge so they weren't visible. He got down and crawled to a good vantage point before motioning me to follow.

"Damn." I muttered as I caught a glimpse. Even without my binoculars, I could still see all the ships, but I pulled them out regardless. Temporary port might have been too generous a term. The place was actually very small. Two large tanks took up the bulk of the space, obviously where the fuel was stored. Opposite of them was a shack that possibly store munitions. There were two other buildings. The rectangular one was likely a barracks, though it only looked big enough to house 20 people. I noticed one of the anti-tank guns was bolted on the roof. The last building was likely an office or a bunker; it also had an AT gun bolted on the top of it. Both guns were unarmed.

There was one metal dock that stretched out a few feet. It was quite clear that this post wasn't meant to hold that many ships, and the river itself wasn't very wide, but the enemy didn't seem to care. I counted at least 14 gunboats down there. There were three larger ships, just slightly smaller then a destroyer. All the guns on it meant it was probably the skimmers the base commander had mentioned.

"That's a lot of ships." I commented. I hadn't expected that many troops when I got orders. Either the enemy had a lot to throw around, or this was very important to them.

"If we can regain control of those guns, we have a chance."

_"A snowball's chance in hell."_ But we couldn't just sit by. We had to at least try.

"Coleman." Sgt. Anson drew my attention away from the base. "See the ridge opposite?" I looked again. The port was on the outside of the bend in the river. A high ridge was on the inside of the bend. It wasn't that far from the base. It was definitely close to the boats.

"Good place to lay down some fire." I nodded.

"I'll take a team of 10 and cross the river. You lead the rest along the ridge to the port."

"Yes sir." I nodded.

"Team 2, how far are you?" Sgt. Anson asked.

"Pilot misjudged the distance, we'll be a bit late." Sgt. Anderson responded.

"Understood, we'll move into attack position." Sgt. Anson nodded at me before selecting 10 soldiers to go with him. The rest, including my squad, gathered around.

"Alright, let's go. Stay quiet and stay low." I ordered. The 24 of us went along the ridge, staying on the far side to avoid being scene. As the ridge started to curve, I held a hand up for the group to stop. First making sure they were obeying the order, I cautiously move to the top of the ridge behind a large boulder.

_"The gunboats are unmanned."_ I mused as my binoculars swept over the small crafts. I turned to see how many soldiers were on the base. I several Lazurian seamen walking around, no doubt the boat crews. I focused closer to the barracks. I saw a squad of soldiers chatting.

"Be advised, confirmed presence of enemy infantry squads armed with assault rifles, RPGs, and machine guns. If there's one for every gunboat, we're in for one hell of a fight." I said.

"We'll have to get the jump on them then." Sgt. Anderson didn't sound daunted.

"Against the odds is always how it'll be for us." Peter didn't sound worried either. I didn't find myself worried either, just mildly curious to how this'd turn out.

"Attention ground assets, Air Wing assets are in place and on standby. We have a Sky Raider and a Apache for support." A new voice got on the channel.

"Understood, Captain Stone, we'll send word as soon as it happens." Sgt. Anderson assured.

_"So all we have to do is get rid of the boats."_ Though that was a task normally reserved to artillery, planes, or other ships. I took the AT-4 off my back and aimed to see if I could hit one of the boats from here. "This is a good angle to use RPG fire." I commented. "As long as the gunboats aren't manned at the time, it's no risk to us."

"Smart thinking. We're 6 minutes out. Hold positions till then." Sgt. Anderson ordered.

"Wilco." I motioned to the others behind me. "Stay prone, and stay on this side of the ridge." I ordered.

"We're in position." Sgt. Anson informed us.

"Copy." I tapped the earpiece. While we waited for Sgt. Anderson's group, I refocused on the activity within the post. The men below were carrying cans and boxes out to the ships. The bastards were stealing our supplies.

"Those uniforms are from Lazuria's Naval Infantry Corps. It's a highly trained unit." Sgt. Anson warned. I briefly glanced around. No one looked too nervous. Though combat would ultimately decide if they were proficient enough.

_"We trained them. They're ready."_ I tried to put my mind at ease.

"We're in position." Sgt. Anderson finally said. I turned my sight up to the opposite ridge. I could only tell they were there by slight movement. Hopefully, we blended in that well. "Those are skimmers? They look like paper!" Sgt. Anderson said.

_"Hopefully, they burn like paper."_ If not, we would be in it up to our necks with no support.

"So what's the plan?" Peter was first to ask.

"I suggest we go with- oh shit!" Sgt. Anderson's sentence ended with a curse. I looked down at the port.

"Fuck." I resisted the urge to slam my fist into the ground. Soldiers, heavily armed at that, were exiting the barracks. The naval crews were also returning to their gunboats. "Look's like they're attacking sooner then expected."

"Alright, we need to improvise." Sgt. Anderson decided quickly. "I want-

A loud 'pop' sent us ducking behind the ridge, and leaving our ears ringing. Black smoke was steadily rising into the sky. Cautiously, I crawled up and peered at the base. One of the skimmers was on fire, the rear of the ship more specifically. The soldiers and the crews quickly retreated.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Hell if I know." Sgt. Anderson responded.

"Umm, I think I know." A young Private spoke up. "Our car did something like that once because the gas quality didn't work with the engine."

"Convenient." Peter commented. I would have to laugh at it later. They decide to steal our supplies, and instead of helping, it destroys their equipment. The smoke was spreading out, shrouding all the other ships.

"We're falling back to avoid the smoke." Sgt. Anson said.

"Air Wing, you listening to this?" Sgt. Anderson asked.

"We're still here." Captain Stone radioed back.

"Yeah, the smoke is obscuring the view. The crews can't see in front of them. Send in the air support. We'll knock out the ships as soon as we regain visual contact." The idea had its risks, but if it worked, we all would all likely get home intact.

"Our fighters are carrying two bombs each. We'll take out the ships and fly north to patrol for enemy reinforcements. Focus on the enemy troops below." That idea was even better.

"Understood." Sgt. Anderson agreed. "Riley, have you relocated to a better fighting position?"

"Affirmative. We have a clear shot."

"Good. Listen up everyone! Move into a good spot and hold fire till I say so." He ordered. "Hurry up!" I quickly motioned to everyone behind me. I pulled my rifle back out and set it firmly on the ground. I lined up the sight with the small specs in the port. This was surely out of the M4's range, but it was our best bet; there was no cover on the port, and there was little cover to advance to the port.

I tightened my grip as the wind changed and some of the smoke drifted onto the port. They likely would've put on their gas masks by now. I mentally recalled where mine was tucked at the bottom of my rucksack where it had always been since last year. I glanced beside me. Everyone was laid flat with his or her gun aimed at the outpost.

"Try to avoid shooting near the fuel tank or the ammunition catches." I ordered. "While those bastards going up in flames would be nice, the base would go as well." We waited in tense silence.

The troops were getting restless, I could tell. The smoke would definitely attract attention. If they decided to just hike along the river, we could still hit them. A gentle roaring reached my ears and quickly increased in volume. The fighters were here.

Before the sound even caught up, they had already raced above and into the distance. 6 objects followed behind them and disappeared into the smoke. Fire and more smoke shot in the air as the skimmers and several of the gunboats were destroyed. On of the small ships hulls went flying into the air and landed in the base, scattering the assembled troops like ants.

"Hold." Sgt. Anderson warned again. Several of the soldiers wandered off the concrete and onto the dirt. Some of them were looking right at us, only they didn't seem to realize it. I focused my sight on them, seeing as they were slightly closer.

Something spooked them, and the soldiers quickly backed back into the base. A new noise behind me, a propeller, informed us the Sky Raider had arrived. The sound quickly became deafening, and a large gust of wind hit me as the Sky Raider passed right above our heads. Staying low, it did not fire as it flew directly above the port and disappeared over the ridge. While it was clear it scared the Lazurians, it was also pretty damn low for my tastes.

"Fire!" Sgt. Anderson ordered. I squeezed the trigger and sent three rounds down. They were all still quite far away, but from how tightly knit they were, the bullets would definitely hit someone. From the three angles, the effect was devastating. But these were battle-hardened troops. A series of RPG fire hit where Sgt. Anson's group apparently was, causing a halt in fire from that direction.

With a bang, white smoke drifted up behind the group, obscuring Sgt. Anderson's group's view. Two popped up from our angle, quickly blocking our view of them.

"The bastards are using smoke grenades!" Sam yelled over the radio. I gritted my teeth. That was probably how they were going to cover their attack. Now they were using it to save they're own skin.

Gunfire starting kicking up dirt in front of us, and more RPG fire began hitting where Sgt. Anson's group was. I was unable to see how Sgt. Anderson's group was faring. "Take cover!" I yelled. I moved back on the other end of the ridge, leaving only my head as to see.

The Apache showed up, only to circle around in confusion at the lack of targets. The Sky Raider also came around for another pass, but was also unable to see any targets.

"Orders?" I requested.

"Wait for it to clear." Sgt. Anson replied calmly. "And be wary of flanking attacks."

"You heard him!" I yelled to my group. "Watch your flanks!" I ejected the clip and put in a new one. This was turning into a goddamn nightmare. A RPG flew from the smoke and towards the ridge. I ducked as it detonated, throwing dirt all over my head.

Shrieking and wails of agony made my blood run cold. I looked over and realized the RPG fragments had hit two members of the group. One was tumbling down the ridge towards the water. The scream was cut off with a gurgling sound as he fell into the river.

"Damnit!" I swore. "Keep me covered!" I yelled at the others. Out of the corner of my eye, I say Helen had already moved to the other injured soldier. I half ran, half skidded down to the water and jumped in where the bubbles were. The water was already becoming red from the blood as I fished the poor guy out.

As soon as he came to air he started screaming again. I realized with horror that he'd taken shrapnel to the right side of his face. "I got you, don't worry!" I wasn't sure he could hear me. I grabbed his left side and started pulling him back up the ridge. From the bottom, it might have well been a mountain.

"Sir!" One of the soldiers shouted a warning. I turned and realized the enemy was storming from the smoke screen and rushing the mountain. I'd heard legends about Lazurian Naval Infantry. Their fearlessness clearly wasn't understated. Ignoring the increase in his shrieking, I hurriedly dragged him the rest of the way up and over the top.

"I got you, your safe!" I tried to calm him while the rest of the group fired at the enemy. Carefully, I removed his helmet. "Dear god." I resisted the urge jump back. The whole right side of his face was cut up, and it looked like his eye had been hit too. "Calm down!" I urged as he thrashed around. At this rate, he'd probably go into shock. "We have a man down over here!" I reported.

"Grenade!" The device in question went off and I saw two more soldiers tumbling down this side of the hill, though only to avoid injury. I heard the gun on the Apache start going off. The smoke must've cleared. He ran out of breath to scream, but was still trembling.

"I need medevac here now!" I contacted the helicopters.

"We'll be right there!" Sgt. Carpenter assured.

"We have four injured, 1 dead." Sgt. Anson reported.

"7 shot, 3 of them critical!" Sgt. Anderson added. I shook my head.

_ "Damnit." _ I did what I could do at the moment, but he would definitely need a better facility. "You're gonna be OK. You hear me?" I asked as I finished putting loose bandage over his face to prevent sand from getting in the wounds. He didn't respond, but he was still conscious. The Sky Raider made a pass with its guns hot. Suddenly, all the fire ended, leaving a uneasy silence and the smell of smoke.

"Everyone OK?" I called. No one brought forward a new injury. The Chinooks had been waiting in the north, and so they reached Sgt. Anderson and Anson's groups first before finally coming to us.

The helicopter landed with the ramp still down. The other casualties were already on board. Peter jumped down and came over. "RPG shrapnel in his face." I whispered. Peter nodded.

"We still got guys sitting out from the first fight, and now this." He shook his head.

"Puts doubts in your mind, doesn't it?" So far, it was only the civilians we'd recruited who'd gotten hurt. "We need a new training lesson." I said as we helped the poor soul onto the helicopter. Helen came over carrying the other guy and we moved him to the helicopter.

"The hospital staff is undermanned and over capacitated." Peter explained and stretched a hand out. "C'mon." Helen took it and he pulled her into the helicopter.

"Look after them." I stepped back.

"We will." They both assured. The helicopter lifted up and left the battlefield, taking with it our two medics, 13 casualties, and one fallen warrior. I sighed and turned back to the other.

"Any more hostiles?" I asked.

"No sir." Karst responded. I stood on top of the ridge and looked down. The base was still shrouded in smoke from the flaming ships. Bodies littered the land below, most being uncomfortably close to the top of the ridge.

"Definitely our deadliest enemy yet." I decided. "Don't worry." I assured the others when they looked at me. "These are their best troops. The rest won't be this bad." I kept my rifle in front of me. "Let's go. And keep a wide berth from the bodies." I warned. Playing dead was considered a viable tactic.

"How the hell do they charge right into us like that? Its nuts!" Renfew was saying.

"They're trained to storm heavily defended positions." I informed him. "It's all part of mindset." He all paused just outside the port. We could probably go in, but there was no point. I heard the fighter pilots say they'd shot down several helicopters, likely the enemy reinforcements.

"Mission accomplished?" Sam wondered. We all listened in our headsets for a answer.

"There's a big mess here, but we did what we were ordered to." Sgt. Anderson said at last. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Some Navy gunboats are coming now to clean up. We can go."

"At least we can relax now." A soldier sounded just as relieved. The remaining helicopter landed. We'd have to all cram into it, but at least we'd do so in good health.

"At least we don't have to clean up this mess." Sam said when we had all boarded. He seemed calmer now that the fight was over.

"That was damn scary." One of the soldiers that had been in Sgt. Anson's group said. "They swam right across and climbed up the ridge and looked us right in the eye!" He shuddered.

"Lazurian Naval Infantry are the rough equivalent of Rubinelle Marines." Sgt. Anderson explained. "Though it's worth debating who is tougher." He admitted. "They do not fear death."

_"No soldier fears death. If you aren't willing to die for the cause, you shouldn't even fight for it." _

X Tim X

I hated this place. It was unfamiliar. Of course, the apartment was too, but at least it was comfy. The narrow bed I was laying on now? Not comfy.

At least we'd see some action soon. Oddly, I wasn't that hyped about it. Lance, Sofia, Dominic, Stone, Kim, and another one of the kids were sent out earlier today, something a river; I hadn't been listening. Though I knew the whole story now because he hadn't shut up about it.

"Man, I flew so close I could see them pissing themselves!" He was boasting.

"Actually, they shot up his plane." Lance corrected. "He flew too low. The repair crews say they nearly severed his fuel line."

"Hey!" Dominic objected.

"It was a real mess." Lance went on. "The Lazurians just charged our own guys like wild bulls. A lot of our soldiers got hurt, one died." Dominic, apparently discouraged by the last bit, flopped back down onto his own cot.

"If they hadn't popped smoke, I would've been able to save them." He said quietly.

"There are some people you just can't save." I said. "Some you just can't help. You get use to it after a while."

"Man, what kind of fucked up school did you come from?" Jessie looked up. "Don't they teach hospitality anymore?"

"Fuck off." I retorted. Things got pretty quiet after that. The thing about lying in bed is that your mind wanders off while you're trying to fall asleep. The weirdest thoughts, or most random memories will come to your mind. Or memories you forgot because you were drunk. _"Oh…fucking…shit."_ I had a slight impulse to jump up at that moment.

Sarah had wanted to talk to me. And she hadn't because I couldn't remember. It was surprising she'd been so calm; she was usually very emotional on that subject. Though she was also very good at suppressing any emotion related to it.

I groaned and slapped myself in the head. _"Way to go, asshole."_

"You alright?" Darren asked in the darkness.

"Yeah. Not sure I'll be tomorrow though." I didn't fall asleep for another hour, mostly because I was thinking of ways to apologize.

XX Author's note XX

This filler chapter was largely inspired by a fight against the AI on a map I downloaded off wi-fi. The enemy ferried mechs to my temp port and used a cruiser to shoot down the b-copter defending it. The cruiser then promptly sunk from running out of fuel.

The Skimmer boat mentioned earlier was a unit idea user **CO Raven** sent in, and thus belongs to him.

Combat scenes come easiest to me when I write. Though I use to read a lot of them before I started writing. I was actually going to write a story based on the Conflict series of 3rd person shooters, but there wasn't a category, so I focused on my favorite strategy game. Thinking back, the lack of experience in anything but combat scenes was probably why the first version was a complete train wreck. But I learned eventually, and then I came out with this.

Leave a review if you have the time!


	34. Chapter 33

X Tim X

The naval corps was supposed to arrive today, but I didn't give a shit about that. I was more focused on the conversation at hand. Sarah was leaning against the outside of the building with her arms crossed and the same smirk she'd had since I told her I need to ask her something. She'd expected it. Though at least that meant I wasn't in too much trouble.

"You scheme too much." I complained.

"It's not scheming if I knew you'd remember eventually. You care too much to forget." She always had control of the situation.

"So let's just cut to the point. What is it that you had to think about?"

"Tactful." She commented and stepped off the wall. She walked past me and simply stared at the landscape. "Hmm." She mused to herself. "Not here." She decided.

"What?" I didn't get what she was getting at.

"I don't want to talk about it here." She turned back to me. "Not the right atmosphere. "

'Not the right atmosphere?' What the hell? Normally, she made it a priority to get her point across.

"Is this more of that philosophy junk?" I asked.

"No, it's mostly for safety. If I said it here, you'd be too distracted during the fight." She explained. Curiosity was hard to ignore, though I suppose I respected her wishes.

I had no idea what she could possibly want to talk about. The damage was done, it couldn't be fixed, and she'd said as much herself. It was beating a dead horse. "Alright, I guess it can wait." I agreed.

Fortunately, we didn't get picked for anything that day. So we just lounged around the base rec room playing pool. Us guys anyway; I wasn't sure what the women were up to.

"What does that woman see in you?" Dominic decided to open his fat mouth.

"Excuse me?" I took the cigarette out of my mouth and glared at him.

"The women are having some sort of group talk thing. And they were talking about _you._" He pointed for emphasis. I scowled to hide my curiosity.

_"What the hell are they talking about?"_ I became suspicious. _"Better yet, what's Sarah telling them?"_ She wouldn't give out too much personnel information…though she might ruin my image.

"All the other girls had that 'aww' look on their face." He went on. Darren and Jessie snickered at his surprisingly good imitation. "What the hell makes you so damn attractive to women. It sure as hell ain't looks." I contemplated whacking him over the head with the pool cue.

That was what I had feared. They were probably talking about relationships and all that shit. _"What's the harm?" _The women wouldn't get on my case if they realized I was a good guy, and it would piss the other guys off. As long as they didn't take me for weak; I'd have to kick their asses then.

"Because." I smirked. "I'm not a annoying bastard." The others started laughing.

"Funny. Funny."

"What the hell are you listening in on them for anyway?" Jessie asked.

"That's creepy." Lance added.

_"If they don't beat him eventually, I'll do it."_ There was a thin line between annoying and harassment.

"It ain't like they're trying to be quiet." Dominic shrugged. "Some of the stuff they talk about is ridiculous."

"You shouldn't be listening anyway." Eddie quipped from the other end of the pool table. Dominic snorted.

"You don't know shit about women. You've never even seen a girl naked!" Dominic accused. I rolled my eyes and took the pool cue to take my shot. "You fucking with me?" Dominic asked in disbelief. I looked up. One of my eyebrows rose.

"Bullshit." Jessie accused the grin spreading over Eddie's face. I was willing to play the same card. It might've accounted for his cockier personality, but there's no way it could've been Kim.

"When?" Dominic demanded.

"Like I'm going to tell you." His voice nearly cracked from trying not to laugh. I shook my head. This damn kid was steering the wrong damn way. Being corrupted. "Well…" He trailed off.

I fetched the pool cue from Lance and lightly tapped Eddie on the top of his head with it. "Show some goddamn respect. Hypocrite." I hit him in the side. He shrunk.

"So that's why." Dominic realized.

"Yeah, so what?" I turned back to him. "At least I have some respect for women. All you see is some place to stick it in."

"Alright, shit." Dominic turned and didn't carry on the argument. I snorted and handed back the pool cue. I was stuck with these idiots. I narrowed my eyes at Eddie and made a cutting motion on my neck.

_"Don't fuck around, boy." _He was quickly moving on my list from 'weak' to 'asshat'. Though it was probably the fact all the others were the same. Still, I made a point to pull him to the side later in the hallway.

"Were you serious back there?" I demanded.

"Y-yeah." He seemed scared now. "I might've have been exaggerating." He said quickly. "In the shelter, uhh." I clamped my hand over his mouth; I didn't need to know the details.

"Look." I said. "You don't talk about shit like that, especially with guys like _that_." I jerked a thumb back towards the rec room. "I really don't give damn if you two are together or not, show some goddamn respect." I repeated. "What do you think she'll say if she found out-

"No!" He said desperately through my hand, fear showing in his eyes. I snorted and let go.

"Look kid. Women are not a topic of discussion like that. You have to show them respect. That kid may be annoying, but I like her. And if you disrespect her or upset her. I. Will. Beat. Your. Ass. " I poked him in the chest with each word. "Do you get understand me?" He was a silent. "Do you understand me?" I stepped closer, forcing him against the wall.

"Y-yes." He stuttered.

"Get out here." I grabbed his shoulder and pushed him roughly down the hallway. He quickly ran.

_"How the hell does everyone who comes from a 'good' background act worse then I do?"_ I shook my head.

"How noble." Sarah commented. I jumped.

"Damnit!" I ducked my head. "I hate it when you do that." She laughed.

"Kim actually told me about that. He was exaggerating." She informed me from across the hall.

"How'd you even know that's what it was about?" I asked.

"Because that's the only thing that would provoke you like that." She said as-a-matter-of-factly.

_"Damn."_ I felt my face go red. She came over and kissed me.

"That's the one thing that really won me over." She purred.

"Eh, right." I glanced around nervously. The others were still in the rec room. Keeping an arm around her shoulder, I started walking down the hall.

"You do it because she reminds you of me."

"Eh?" I asked.

"Kim. She reminds you of me when I were younger. That's why you care about her." Sarah theorized.

"Maybe it is." I didn't quite disagree. She laughed.

"A year ago, you'd have never said that." I shrugged again. She whispered something under her breath that I didn't quite hear.

"Huh?" I asked.

"I'm really lucky." She leaned closer.

_"Or I'm just a sucker."_ I patted her on the shoulder. "I'll follow you on anything. I've promised that much. Want to go check out the helicopter? We could get sent out any second now."

"Actually," she glanced around, "I have a better idea." She whispered seductively and started dragging me in a different direction.

"Like I said, I'll follow you anywhere." I couldn't stop myself from grinning. Acting like a good guy did feel good, but I could still accept a few 'perks'.

X With James X

"One of them died of their wounds during the night." Peter inclined his head.

"Goddamnit!" I slammed my fist against the wall.

"But we're sure the others will make it." Peter went on. The news didn't cheer me up much.

"We need to make some damn changes fast." Sgt. Anderson rubbed his chin. "At this rate, the whole unit will be wiped out within the next two weeks."

"Not many options available, are there?" Sam commented. He didn't seem that disturbed by the issue.

_"He should think about something other then the battlefield."_ There was more to being a soldier.

"We just have to bare with it." Sgt. Anson stated. "Our Commanding officer wouldn't send us on a mission with a high risk for casualties unless absolutely necessary."

"There's no telling if they'll ask us for another favor." Peter reminded us.

"Man has a point. As long as the bastards have a advantage, our necks are on the line unless we meet them with bullets." Sam slammed his fist into the palm.

"We do not need to secure numeric victories, we need to secure tactical victories." Sgt. Anson said.

"Supply routes, defensive points, roads, and supply depots." Peter agreed. "If they're on unfavorable ground, the power balance shifts back to us."

"We just go to find the most vulnerable places to strike." I realized.

"But where is it?" Sam asked.

"We'll find out later. In the meantime, we have a rendezvous to get to." Sgt. Anderson grabbed our attention. "Our naval support will be arriving soon. As a token of thanks, the river we saved is being assigned a temporary command post, at least till we get deployed to the front lines."

"Good luck getting any of them up." Sam jerked his head in the direction of the barracks. Most of our unit was still tired from the trip and the fighting.

"No need. This meeting is strictly a formal exchange of information between officers. If we do end up in a skirmish before the ground forces arrived, we need to be able to work together to the best of our ability. That area is now occupied and defended by us and us alone."

"How long till the ground forces get here?" Sam asked.

"They aren't sure yet. We'll find out when they do. In the meantime, let's focus on the task ahead." The helicopter ride back to the river seemed a lot shorter. The Air Wing commander joined us for the flight.

"When you think about it, not a whole lot has changed from the last war, has it?" Sgt. Anderson tried to make casual conversation.

"Not much at all." Captain Stone agreed. "The weapons aren't very different and the boys and girls fighting are still too young."

"No kidding." Sgt. Anderson shook his head. "But it's not like the old are any better. I'll bet it was a couple of vets like ourselves who started this damn fire." Captain Stone chuckled.

"Seems likely." He nodded.

"The meteors destroyed everything but left the worst people alive." Sgt. Anderson laughed. "Life's still a bitch."

"Life's only job if to fuck everyone over." I blinked, not sure if my ears heard correctly. Sam's mouth hung open for a moment before he jumped over to our side of the helicopter.

"Did I just hear that?" Sam cleaned his ear with his finger.

"I think so." It had surprised me.

"Well, he wasn't always this way." Peter pointed out. "He could've very well been like us."

"Still, I never imagined hearing Sgt. Anson saying that." Then again, like Peter said, he probably was closer to his youth now then ever.

The helicopter touched down roughly and the ramp went down. If the crewmember was tired, it didn't show through his goggles. The base didn't all that different from yesterday, save the blood staining the concrete and the oil and bloodstained shores. Our destroyer and 8 gunboats sat where the Lazurians had been. They were probably ransacking the gunboats for fuel, armor, and ammunition. The small contingency of Marines that went with the ships had set up a small perimeter and taken control of the Anti-tank guns.

_"At least our efforts weren't for nothing." _But was it worth the life of the men we'd lost?

We all approached the Captain talking with several of the gunboat commanders. She stepped out of the circle to meet us. "Captain Maylou Davenport, Commander of all 12th Battalion naval assets." She extended her hand.

"Sergeant Anderson, this is Sgt. Anson." He motioned with his hand. "Commanders of the 12th Battalions Heliborne troops." All three of them shook hands. We stood back, technically being subordinates.

"Captain Stone, Air Wing Commander." They both shook hands.

"That's our flagship?" Sgt. Anson looked at the destroyer. 6 Guns, 3 on each end, and a dozen AA guns wouldn't be much on their own.

"That's right." Captain Davenport nodded. "I commanded the _Typhoon_ for three years before the meteors. We were assigned to protect shipping routes. After the meteors struck, we were adrift as sea for a while. It's a miracle we survived."

"That it is." Sgt. Anderson nodded. "On the business, Captain. What resources do you have?"

"The _Typhoon_ is fully crewed and operational. All eight gunboats are operational. We got 20 Marines with us. That's about it." She admitted. "Those guns can easily hit a mile inland. The gunboats can shell targets inland as well, but if we're limited to this river, our effectiveness is highly restricted."

"We got 58 men still combat capable." Sgt. Anson started. "We're low on anti-tank weapons, however."

"There are 5 fighters under my command." Sgt. Stone inclined his head. "We have three attack helicopters and two Sky Raiders for ground support, and two B-52s for offense."

"We can't promise much of a air defensive net." Davenport said. "The Bofors won't hit any fast movers."

"We can handle air supremacy." Captain Stone assured. "And we can eliminate any armor that threatens ground troops." He nodded to us.

"The Marine's will lend a hand, but they aren't much. All I can say is stay close to the river and our guns will lend you a hand." Davenport observed the ship.

"If we come under attack, the Destroyer is the logical center of our defense." Captain Stone said. "It can protect ground forces and it may deter enemy air attacks."

"As long as the enemy doesn't throw the same resources at us they did yesterday, we can hold this sector no problem." Sgt. Anderson nodded.

"The terrain around this area is very inhospitable." Captain Stone stated. "A ground assault would have a very difficult time moving."

"That leaves naval and air units." Davenport said. "We don't have much to match enemy ships."

"Much? The _Stryker_ can take on any ship"! One of the gunboat Captains called.

"Jacoby." Davenport said in a warning tone. "Sorry." She apologized. "One in every crowd."

"They can still move in troops by helicopter." Sgt. Anson reminded them. "Though not in sufficient numbers for a large offensive." 5 helicopters could deliver 200 Lazurian troops. But would the enemy expend the air cover and support, let alone the troops themselves? The accepted proportion was that 3 men on offensive equaled 1 on defense. They probably had to focus most of their efforts on the main defensive lines.

The meeting concluded soon after a general strategy was agreed on. The port would be our defensive position, since it was the only thing the enemy would attack. While ground troops would form a perimeter on the surrounding ridge, the Air Wing would scramble all aircraft and they would have a small engagement zone around the base. Despite the shortage of numbers, the terrain worked to our favor. Unless the enemy would deploy a large number of their own aircraft or ships, we would certainly have the upper hand. Though the possibility of another attack was unlikely, it was still possible. So we would have to be on alert.

Once we got back to base, we didn't separate. Sgt. Anson made a suggestion to visit the base commander. He might be able to tell us where the whole Battalion would be deployed, since our numbers would be a waste by that port. Once Captain Brenner arrived, we could give him a very thorough brief on the situation.

"Funny. I received a cable about that not too long ago." The Colonel said when we asked him. He pulled out the large map of the region. "Like I said yesterday, there are two other rivers." He pointed to the opposite side of the map where two rivers were, not too far apart. "This land is mostly marshy, but there's a lot of roads and villages there. Our garrison there came under attack a few days ago. You'll reinforce them, probably." He scratched his chin.

"The tanks will get bogged down in the water there." Sgt. Anderson realized.

"Enemy AA will be easy to hide." Captain Stone went on.

"Infantry will be most useful." Sgt. Anson deducted. "We have 200 Marines amongst our Battalion."

"Well, it's most likely your destination. So you might want to get planning." He rolled up the map.

"Thank you for your time, Colonel." Captain Stone said.

"Out of the frying pan and into the damn fire." Sam rubbed his hands together. "It's going to be one hell of a fight." Again, suspicion started nagging at my thoughts. Why did it seem like we were being thrown into the worst of it?

_"Because we're meant to be a relief force."_

"Things are getting harder, aren't they?" Peter asked.

"Yeah." I nodded. "But I'm not slowing down; we got people depending on us."

"Me neither, but things are getting far more complicated then they should be." He rested in chin on his fist and shook his head. "I've been asking around. Things aren't as good as they look." He warned quietly.

"How?" I asked.

"I'm not entirely sure yet." Peter admitted. "But I've overheard discussions at the hospitals. There is something wrong with the soldiers in the NRA. Though I haven't heard what the exact threat is."

"Spies?" I suggested. "Extremists?" The only people I could imagine causing trouble would be Lazuria, or extremists who wanted to form their own territories. The latter was unpleasant. We'd been built on democracy before, and that's how it should stay.

"Probably the later. A lot of people are trying to push their own agendas now." Peter shook his head.

"Order will prevail eventually." I said. "There's enough sane people still left in the world to keep things right."

"Maybe not." Peter warned. "Look at history. 1 man is capable of a lot of things." I frowned. Even if things were well organized, one well-placed blow from the inside could collapse all of it.

_"We have more enemies then we realize…"_ But I had to stay strong for that reason; we'd have to face each one of those enemies eventually.

X With Tim X

"Where do you see us in two years?" Sarah asked me as she slipped her pants back on. I paused briefly while sticking my arm through my shirt.

_"She's still worried about the future."_ At least I wasn't alone on that.

"I see us alive and well." I tried to put her mind at ease; she was probably worried about getting killed.

"Anything else?" She was slipping her bra on now.

"Well…" I thought about it. "We'll probably move somewhere else. Maybe something in the channel. Waterfront property should be dirt-cheap now." She laughed.

"Living in the channel sounds nice." She commented.

"Yeah, and since everything has to be moved by ship or air, plenty of employment opportunities for us." I went on. "Just the two of us finally living life." I got caught up in my own description. I could almost imagine myself sitting on a patio staring at the beach. "Though I guess we can stay in contact with the others." I added. _"Someone to show off to."_

"Hmm." I could tell by her tone that she didn't like my answer.

"What do you see?" I asked.

"Same thing, really." She shrugged. "I might change a thing or two."

"Well, you can't expect me to make all the decisions; you have to agree on them." I offered. She smiled, even though it was uneasy. She gave herself a quick pat down to make sure it didn't look obvious what we'd just been up to.

"Ready to go? We probably should go check on the helicopter."

"Sure. Is it clear?" I asked. She cracked the stall door and peaked out to make sure it was clear.

"Yeah. And hurry up! Last thing either of us want is to be caught again."

"I learned the first time when they tried to court marshal both of us." Once out of dangerous territory, I patted her on the shoulder.

"Are you really that worried about the future?" I asked.

"Of course." She said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I have no idea how it'll turn out. You should be worried too!"

"Who says I ain't? I can't even keep up with what's going on _now_." I stopped when I realized she had.

"I found something out while we were in the Capital." She started walking again.

"What?" I asked, realizing this couldn't possibly be good news.

"Guess who the second in command is for the NRA." She told me. "Guess." She scowled. "Hell of a promotion for incompetence."

"Waylon?" I asked in disbelief. "That jackass got promoted?!" I felt pissed. _"What dumbass saw any worth in that idiot?"_

"Yeah, and he has a lot more power now. That's what I'm worried about. I doubt he's forgotten us." Sarah shook her head. "I don't want to be anywhere near him."

"If we comes anywhere near any of us, I'm just going to put a bullet in his empty head. I'm not going to put up with any of his bullshit, not now."

"That's also what I'm worried about. Can you please be more peaceful?" She turned around and looked me dead in the eye. "He'll end up getting himself killed eventually; he has too many bad habits. Just let that happen, okay?" She pleaded.

"…Okay then." I couldn't really say no to her. Though that didn't stop me from being pissed, or confused for that matter. A year ago, she'd gladly castrate him. What now? What was her bigger plan now? I pinched the bridge of my own. I actually found myself wishing this war would be over and we could move on. It'd stop most of this idiotic drama.

XX Author's Note XX

The _Typhoon_, _Stryker_, and their Captains are all property of user **SkyFighter**

I post this chapter to celebrate the 1-year anniversary since I posted this story. A year later, there are 34 chapters, 177k words, and nearly 2000 views. Thank you. Thank you to everyone who reads ands reviews. I promise I will continue writing this story, Under A Madman's Reign, and the eventual Lazurian leg till the trilogy is finished.

Though my junior year has recently started, so updates may be slow to come. I apologize in advance, but don't distress; for never shall I quit.

Leave a review on your way out.


	35. Chapter 34

XX Author's Note XX

I said Hiatus? Oh yeah…Well, the issue was resolved in a fast stroke of luck. Admittedly, I'd had this chapter completed when my previous computer went blue screen of death, so I had to retype it, so I apologize is it appears rushed.

X James X

The officers gathered went silent immediately when Captain Brenner and Lieutenant Lin entered the room. "You are all here to be briefed on the new offensive. Now that the Battalion regrouped, it is time to go on the offensive." The Lieutenant slammed a set of maps down on the table. This last gesture earned rapt and solid attention as everyone sat up to their full height.

"Lazuria has gained control of two rivers that make up the flank of the NRA's defensive lines." Captain Brenner motioned to the map the Lieutenant had tacked up. "To ensure stability of the regional defenses, we have been tasked with spearheading a assault to reclaim the area."

"NRA forces have managed to regroup. They'll lend assistance." The NRA intelligence officer in the corner of the room said quickly.

"We expect the enemy forces to be brigade size, mostly infantry. Based on the NRA reports, possibly a fifth of their numbers have been killed. Though intelligence also suggests they have several tank companies and attack helicopter squadrons for support." I found myself nodding; though they would have 4 times our numbers, we would still have a equipment advantage. "The NRA has scraped together a company-sized force to assist us. They'll hold the bridges once we wipe out initial resistance." For the first time, she acknowledged the now flustered intelligence officer.

"We are still outnumbered." Captain Brenner warned. "Extra caution will be needed to reduce casualties." Behind him, Will looked uneasy. I shook my head. _"Risks are part of war."_ I felt uncomfortable at the prospect of him being in command of anything.

"And now to the order of battle." The Lieutenant replaced the map with a replica, though this one had many lines and arrows on it to represent units. "There are two bridges that are the only way over the marshes." She pointed to two stars on the board, some 13 miles apart. "The enemy also has heavy concentrations of artillery, both regular and anti-air, at bases at these two points." She motioned to two more stars further down, these ones nearly 30 miles apart. The one closest to us had a port beside it. "These batteries have range covering the entire area. As long as they are active, no tank or soldier will be able to get through."

"Just like every damn beach in Lazuria." Sgt. Anderson muttered.

"All four of these points are severe handicaps, so they will be the first targets in the operation in a combined air and naval assault." She pointed to four streaks crossing the mountains and going between the rivers. "We will utilize all of our helicopter resources for this task. Two helicopters will each carry a platoon of Marines to secure both bridges." She nodded to the Marine Commander. "The other two will carry specialized army troops to assault and liberate the closest base and the port and to hold it till armored reinforcements arrive."

"Pretty fucking risky if you ask me." Sam muttered. I was tempted to agree; the knowledge that the second battery could reach us easily was far from comforting. As if reading my mind, the Lieutenant continued.

"Before any of these strikes occur, our naval forces will enter the river from the sea and disable the first battery. Lazuria naval forces recently retreated from the shoreline to combat NRA navy ships, so the coast should be clear. After this, they'll advance up the river and fire against any enemy forces advancing towards us."

"If successful, we'll have the enemy trapped." Captain Brenner said.

"_Soldiers fight hardest against the wall."_ I thought.

"Once the two bases are down and the bridges are captured, our armor will advance with tank company C leading ." She motioned to the line running down the center of the marshes. "Once the first battery is knocked out, our Air Wing will mobilize. The attack helicopters will assist the armor. The other ground attack craft will move further inland to mop up targets of opportunity. The fighters will patrol the entire area and keep the skies clear. And questions?" No hands went up. "The operation commences in 5 hours. Our naval assets will leave early to get into position." She finished.

"We are outnumbered, but we can pull this off is we just believe it." Captain Brenner encouraged.

"As long as I'm out there, those bastards aren't going anywhere." Sam muttered as we left the building.

"Your being too aggressive." Peter warned.

"It's what I trained for." Sam un-slung his rifle and patted it.

"Save it for the field." Sgt. Anson warned. Sam grunted in response. He glanced over my shoulder and froze. Sgt. Anderson and Anson did the same. Curious, I glanced over my shoulder, and had to fight a reflex to run like hell.

"Nice view from up here!" The gunner called from his high perch. The War Tank sat in the middle of the base, and had gathered quite a crowd. An Abram sat beside it, showing just how large it really was. Two large flags, the red flag of Rubinelle, was draped over each side.

"Nearly got shot coming down here." The tank Captain explained when he caught Captain Brenner and the Lieutenant staring. "Apparently, Lazuria has been fielding these things too."

"_What?!"_ Everyone else had similar reactions. The Captain and Lieutenant began conversing quietly. Lazuria had War Tanks? How? The unknown enemies we'd faced a year ago definitely weren't Lazurian. But then how?! There was something deeply wrong with all of this, but I couldn't name what… I shook my head. I had to focus on the mission. I could wonder about the War Tank later.

X 5 Hours Later X

"Stay low." I warned my squad as I climbed over a particularly jagged rock. They all looked uneasy. I couldn't blame them: things already seemed to be going wrong. About an hour ago, the naval corps had been caught in a dogfight between carrier fighters and a Lazurian bomber sortie. Our own fighters had been sent to help. I'd been told a fighter had been lost in the fight, and according to the NRA intelligence agent, the Lazurians were trying very hard to figure out why there were ships so close to the coast. The whole operation could already be blown open, but we'd already started. There was too much to risk, so we were slamming forward.

The mountain was beginning to decline. It was only a matter of time before we could see our target. We didn't yet have a exact plan; we'd have to improvise once we had a clearer picture. Though I had to admit there wouldn't be that many opportunities available to us…

"Hold up." Sgt. Anderson put up one of his massive hands. He motioned for Sam, Peter, and me. "All officers up front." All five of us quietly crawled further down the mountain. Around another large rock we finally came into view of our target.

"Damn." Sam whistled.

"Damn is right." Sgt. Anderson grunted. While I knew there were bound to be thousands of enemies, I didn't foresee so many being bunched together like this.

The land below was firmer compared to the rest of the area. It also appeared to be a staging point of sorts. Directly below, in the port, were a few gunboats and a (I eyed it with apprehension) light cruiser in dry dock. Beyond the port was a stretch of land that had been turned into a makeshift runway covered with tents. The were Hinds lined up on each side of the strip. Counting brought up a number of 18 attack helicopters. And finally there was the base. While the high walls didn't allow me a chance to see inside, I was sure all the artillery was in there, but at least we were close enough so that it couldn't hit us. While I did the math in my head, Sgt. Anson relayed back everything we'd seen. At my best guess, there were nearly 400 people down there.

"We may be able to airlift a artillery piece to you if you need assistance." The Lieutenant was the one overseeing efforts behind enemy lines. At least she also realized the unevenness of the proposed fight.

"Not enough time." Sgt. Anderson said at once. "Besides, I got a plan."

"Remember that air support will not be available till the first battery is destroyed." While the Lieutenant seemed to trust him on the idea, she was making it clear we were on our own if things went south.

"And what the fuck is that?" Sam said skeptically.

"Shut up and listen." Sgt. Anderson set the butt end of his M249 on the ground. "That cruiser is unmanned, so we don't have to worry about it. If we place two snipers up here, we can keep the helicopters grounded, right Riley?" He turned to Sgt. Anson.

"It should be easy to hit the cock pits and the fuel tanks from here." He took aim with his rifle.

"Right." Sgt. Anderson nodded. "We'll use the gunboats to get into the base." I turned my eyes down at the three gunboats sitting below. Even I had to raise an eyebrow.

"They aren't difficult to operate, and the Lazurian models can't be much different from the Rubinelle ones." Sgt. Anderson explained. "If we have to, we'll use the MG on the fronts to wreck the helicopters. But what we'll do, is fire the missile salvos on the base. It should destroy the artillery in there and wipe out most the defenders. Then we walk in, patch the holes in the wall, and hold out till the tanks arrive." He ended simply.

"_Sounds plausible…And the casualty risk is low."_

"What about P.O.W.s?" Peter asked. "If we storm the port and put holes in the helicopters, that'll leave the crews and pilots." I hadn't thought of prisoners.

"That cruiser looks like she got hit hard. Most of the crew is either dead or was evacuated to replace casualties on other ships." Sgt. Anderson guessed. "But if we capture any pilots we'll have to hold them in the base." I thought I heard Sam mutter something under his breath. We returned to explain this plan to the rest of the troops.

"This plan relies on speed." Sgt. Anson told them. "We need to have reached the base within ten minutes." This caused some uneasiness. 10 Minutes was a bit tight.

"Command, we're ready to move." Sgt. Anderson radioed in.

"Understood, but do not attack till the 2nd battery is disabled. Send word on the status of the battery when possible." Sgt. Anson and the other 2 snipers in the unit took perch where we'd first seen the base. Since it would raise too much attention if we were all group together, we snuck down to the back of the port in small groups of 3 or 5. Eventually, all of us but the snipers were lined up behind the port by the door that looked as if though it was never used.

"Coleman, both of you lead." Sgt. Anderson ordered. My squad lined up on the right of the small dingy metal door. Peter's lined up on the left.

"Do NOT shoot any unarmed personnel." I put stress on the word. I exhaled and nodded at Peter. Being the first in, we were most likely to be gunned down.

We waited tensely, well aware we could be discovered at any moment. Finally, a female voice sounded over the radio.

"This is the _Typhoon. _The battery is neutralized/"

"Understood. Begin assault on the first battery." The Lieutenant ordered us. I motioned to Peter with my fingers.

1...2..."Go!" I shouted. Peter used his foot to kick the rusty door open and I moved swiftly into the port.

Naval personnel and workers, many of the former lounging around out of uniform, jumped back in surprise and horror as we stormed the place. Over the shouting, I heard sniper fire as our snipers started disabling the helicopters. "Down on the ground!" We all kept yelling it. Fortunately for us, and them, all the workers and sailors hit not put up a resistance. Indeed, the security personnel surrender their revolvers and sub-machine guns without protest. They just simply looked at us in sad defeat.

"All of you line up over here! NOW!" Sgt. Anderson's voice boomed. "Take your squad and check the ship." I heard him order Peter.

"Yes sir." I heard him say. I focused on rounding up the rest of the prisoners.

"All of you, line up." I barked at the workers and kicked a AK-74u submachine gun into the water. "Round them up." I ordered Cerutti and Nies. With a 'yes sir' they began grabbing those apparently too frightened to get up.

"Bunch of pussies." Renfew snorted.

"Stay focus!" I ordered. There was an explosion beyond the port and the sound of scraping metal, burning, and the turning of rotor wings. "Let's check the other side." A metal bridge rose above the water separating the two sides of the port and allowed people to transverse it.

As I stepped a foot on the stairs, I noticed a Lazurian sailor run towards one of the gunboats. "Runner!" I took aim and fired as he jumped off to the boat. The bullets hit him midair and took all the acceleration out of his flight. He twisted backwards and his back made contact with the side of the gunboat before hit body splashed into the water.

"Left!" I heard Karst shout. I turned just in time to see another sailor jump from the cabin of one of the other gunboats and dash for the machine gun up front. Karst fired before I did, and the sailor hit the deck painfully. I heard Helen gasp when he was still twitching.

"Never mind, keep moving!" I ordered, suppressing a pang of pity for the man. _"It's always a risk…" _He probably had family to return to. But so did I.

Aside from the three of us, two other soldiers ran over the bridge behind us. I ordered all of them to fan out and start searching. Though this side of the port seemed deserted. "Someone get on those damn gunboats and move them into position!" Sgt. Anderson ordered. The former Coast Guard members probably had experience with that.

"How many prisoners?" I asked as another explosion sounded outside.

"60 is my guess." Peter responded through the coms. We had more prisoners then men…

"I see you motherfucker! Put your fucking hands in the air!" Out of the corner of my eye I saw Renfew approach some oil barrels against the wall. A single revolver shot echoed above the sniper fire and I turned just in time to see Renfew's body hit the ground.

"RENFEW! Man down! Man down!" I yelled. I fired two bursts at the barrel before quickly running over towards him. He'd apparently been shot point blank in the face. The bullet had destroyed the bandanna and completely torn off his jaw. He'd been dead before he hit the ground.

"Ilia!" I heard a accented female voice cry in horror. I turned back to the barrels. Three revolvers were tossed over and clattered onto the ground. I grabbed the rim of one of the barrels and tossed it aside to reveal five Lazurian pilots hiding there. One of them, still clutching the smoking gun, was leaning against the wall, making a horrible gurgling sound as blood bubbled from his mouth. All six bullets had gone through the oil barrel and, still coated in oil, struck him. He gave an odd convulsive shudder and went still. One of the pilots, the only female in the group, started wailing and threw herself over his body.

"Gun!" I realized she still had her revolver on her hip. "Get the fuck over here!" I snarled, grabbing the back of her shirt and dragging her away. She wailed and clung onto the lifeless corpse, dragging it slightly. Despite my shaking, she refused to let go. Growling, I simply snatched the revolver from her belt and tossed it aside.

"Move." In a unusual show of aggression, Karst threw the remaining pilots onto the floor. Helen rushed over. I noticed with a hint of annoyance and of respect she'd dragged the sailor Karst had shot to land. Over the shock, I faintly heard Sgt. Anson report all the helicopters had been disabled.

I respectfully pulled Renfew's body away from the messy mixture of blood and oil forming around the area. Helen helped me and helped wrap his head to hide the worst of the damage.

"Oh man." Peter and his squad came over, ushering another group of prisoners, who seemed mortified at the sight before them. I thought I saw Helen's eyes glisten as if wet. Even my anger ebbed into slight pity at the woman, now covered in oil and blood, still sobbing onto the body.

"_This is why relationships in the military are a bad idea."_ I shook my head, but then remembered what he'd done. Renfew had been a bit mouthy, yes, but he'd been a decent kid and a brave soldier. I momentarily make a cross motion with my hands why Sgt. Anderson set up a rear guard to watch the prisoners and put Sam in command of it.

"Are those gunboats in position?" Sgt. Anson questioned.

"Nearly, sir!" The former Coast Guard replied. I brought my rifle back up. We could mourn later. We had a very tight schedule to keep.

"We're ready to begin our assault on the bridges!" The Marines reported. "Waiting for enemy battery to go offline."

"Should be within a minute." Sgt. Anderson responded and motioned for those not assigned to the rear guard. We all quickly ran to the open metal gate leading into the port. By know, warning alarms were going off inside the main base. "Are those gunboats ready to fire?" Sgt. Anderson asked.

"Yes, sir!" I knelt down and focused on the base.

"Then light the fuckers up!" Sgt. Anderson ordered. The sound of successive firing didn't stun my attention and I watched the salvos fly inland and into the base. More secondary explosions flew up clear into the air. I watched in satisfaction as the flaming wreckage of artillery and rocket vehicles flew into the air. The warning sirens drew of into a high pitched whine before cutting off. "MOVE!" Sgt. Anderson yelled.

"The last battery is neutralized!" Sgt. Anson reported as we all broke out into a run. I got a first glimpse of the runway as we ran across it. Of the eighteen helicopters, ten were sitting in flames, likely from a ruptured fuel tank. Three more looked like they'd gotten a few more feet in the air before crashing back down. The rest were still at rest, but in puddles of fuel that had yet to ignite.

We ran towards the gate as fast of we could manage. This tactic would be considered suicidal, but it was our best bet. Before we reached the base, however, I watched in horror as several projectiles soared from the base and headed off down where the bridges were. _"They'll be slaughtered!"_

"Under artillery fire!" The second Marine group radioed.

"GET ANOTHER GODDAMN SALVO IN THERE!" Sgt. Anderson yelled. Within ten seconds of not command, around volley was soaring through the air. We paused briefly on the road, ducking low, as the shells struck the base for a second time. There were more secondary explosions. The large metal gate that barred access to the base fell slowly forward and crashed to the ground. This allowed us a clear view at the carnage inside the base. And of the surviving ZSU that had lowered its cannons against us.

"Get out of the way!" I yelled. Everyone scattered left or right, trying to avoid the bright rounds now flying down the road. If those things took out planes, I didn't want to know what they could do to a human being. We continued our advance, but to the side of the road till we were eventually pressed against the outer wall of the compound.

I watched as another soldier moved to the edge of the gate with rocket launcher in hand and bravely tried to neutralize the AA tank. The fire stopped. "Vehicle disabled!" He called.

"Move in and clear the place out! Hurry up! Reinforcements could arrive any minute." Sgt. Anderson was yelling. At that moment, the fighters jets passed overhead. One slowed and strafed the remaining helicopters, destroying them in five simultaneous explosions. They flew on north to secure the skies.

I moved my rifle back and forth as we entered. A watchtower had collapsed across the open areas of the base, obscuring a fair portion of the area. All around, burning vehicles smoldered and burned along with bodies, filling the air with one of the most unpleasant smells I'd ever experienced.

The base itself wasn't but a few buildings: a administrative one, a fuel depot, a medical wing, and a communication tower. It was probably just a extension of the port. While Peter's squad cleared the medical wing, I took the remaining members of my squad to check the coms tower. The adrenaline began to ebb as we checked each empty room and observed each blank screen. Reason and realization was catching up. Renfew was gone for good… _"Could I have prevented it?"_ I found myself wondering that same thing several times in a row. He'd been five feet away from me…

"A-all clear, sir." Karst sounded slightly traumatized as well.

"Right…" I was surprised at how quiet I sounded. "Back outside then." I waved my hand. "Com tower is empty!" I yelled as he walked back outside. I noticed that Peter's squad had evidently shepherded out two medics that had been stationed here. Somehow, I found pity for the expressions on their faces as they gazed at the ruins. Sam was loudly shouting abuse as he unceremoniously ushered the other prisoners in. They looked at the carnage in horror. I noticed the female pilot, now being dragged around by her fellow wingmen, still sobbing.

"Bitch doesn't shut up." Sam complained acidly. I was a bit taken aback by his cold demeanor.

"Put them in the medical wing, Coleman." Sgt. Anson ordered. "They're less likely to be hurt there. We'll need a medic in case of casualties." I noticed the prisoners look up at him in confusion and suspicion.

"_What the hell is that about?"_ I thought in annoyance. Sgt. Anson was a good man. Peter nodded and started moving them. The medical wing was big, but I wondered if it could fit that many people.

"We got to reinforce this place, now!" Sgt. Anderson ordered. At this, the two Sky Raiders flew ahead. "I've ordered them to hit any targets coming from the north." He explained. "Ransack the buildings. Drag everything heavy out here. We need to substitute that gate." He said this calmly, seeming unaffected by the heat and cracking from the burning vehicles.

"You heard him." I found strength in my voice and turned back to my squad. "Hurry up!" We spent the next ten minutes carting out everything that we could. The barricade was shabby to say the least; nothing more then metal desks and file cabinets. The only way to fully utilize the cover was to lay flat on the ground.

"Comfy." Rockefeller said sarcastically as he laid down and propped his own M249 on a file cabinet.

"Coleman." Sgt. Anson tapped me on the shoulder. "There's a watch tower on the northern perimeter. We're setting up there."

"Yes sir." I nodded and waved for my squad. We were assigning ten soldiers to guard the rear and both flanks. Since most enemy resistance would likely come from the coast, the bulk of our effort would be there. They had numbers. We had the terrain advantage. Nearly evenly matched.

"Keep alert ladies." Sgt. Anderson ordered as we climbed the walkway to see over the wall. "Our destroyer was hit by counter artillery fire, so we'll have to evacuate casualties when she arrives. The pilots and gunboats have started firing on tanks and infantry advancing from the north. Expect some to filter through."

"Sir…is the infirmary safe?" Helen asked me hesitantly. Her question caught me off guard.

"Course it is, private." I responded. "It's both law and common sense not to attack a hospital." She looked somewhat reassured. I frowned in concentration and propped my rifle on the wall. It was clear it was only meant for small confrontations. How much did the enemy have to throw at us?

The B-52s flew overhead, their presence very comforting. "Confirmed, tanks rolling up on us!" Sgt. Anderson called. I set the rifle down and pulled out my AT-4.

"_For Renfew."_ I decided.

X Tim X

"Man, we're wasting fuel like this!" Jessie complained. All three helicopters were hovering above the lines of tanks below. All the planes were still on the runway getting fueled and rearmed. That Lucretia girl had been shot down when the fighters got scrambled to stop some bombers or some other shit. I'd never really got the know the girl. Like I said, she'd been the quiet type. But still, she'd just been a kid…

"The second battery has been neutralized." The Lieutenant tapped into the channel. She line went dead again. Now we just had to wait for the bridges…

"The attack on the first battery and the bridges has begun. Stay ready to move out." Captain Brenner said over the radio.

"Alright. Let's get them." Sarah turned to look up at me before turning back.

"_At least she's still tough as nails up here."_ As long as we didn't let the emotional junk get to us in the field, we'd still survive. I got more edgy as each minute passed. I barely heard Stone report, with professional indifference, that all four fighters were in the air.

"First battery is neutralized!" The Captain called. I gripped the stick tighter. We waited tensely until… "First bridge is secure. All forces advance!" The Captain ordered. The helicopters were the first thing forward. The fighters zoomed above and further down range as we reached the first bridge.

"I'd like to know what their definition of 'secure' is." I commented. The bridge wasn't actually under control; the leathernecks had simply captured the end the tanks would cross. Now they were taking cover on one end of the bridge and trying to fire at the enemies on the bridge.

"We got a lot of fire coming from on the bridge and on the other end. Hit them goddamnit!" The radioman yelled. Bright tracer rounds passed by the helicopter. I looked in annoyance at the ZSU sitting on the other end of the bridge.

"They kept enough AA to keep us busy." Lance commented. I lifted the helicopter slightly.

"Kill the bastards!" I yelled. At the current range, the volley of rockets spread to thin to hit the ZSU. Though they did hit a artillery piece and a tank. Braving the fire, one of the others went forward and nailed it with a Hellfire before it could do any damage.

"Get on the side of the bridge, I'll give them a taste of the chain gun." Sarah called.

"You got it." I moved the helicopter to the side of the bridge. There was enemy infantry behind barricades, a few jeeps, and a anti-tank gun on the bridge. I tilted the helicopter sideways and the chain gun started. I noticed Darren and Jessie strafing from the other side. Between the two helicopters, there was nothing left when we reached the other end, which Lance and Sofia had cleaned up fairly well.

"Bridge completely secure!" The Marines below reported as they checked any spots we might've missed. The first light tanks had appeared down the road.

"We need to clean up the second bridge." Sofia reminded us.

"Heavy casualties! We need support!" The Marine radioman called when we contacted them.

"_Shit."_ It only took a minute to reach the second bridge, but we saw the problem almost immediate.

"We're hit!" Lance yelled as heavy machine gun fire struck the tail. "Heavy damage, pulling out!" The helicopter was already spewing black smoke as they turned around. I had doubts they'd even get back to base.

"Hit the other side of the bridge!" The radioman called. Whether they'd attacked from it or taken cover in it I didn't know, but the remaining Marines were all using the marshes for cover as they fired at the enemy infantry on the bridge. In front of the bridge were several anti-tank guns and a few tanks, which had shot up Lance and Sofia's bird. Traveling across the bridge was self-propelled gun. And at the other side were another dozen tanks. This one was a lot more heavily defended.

I had to raise the helicopter up to ensure machine gun fire didn't hit us either. "Thin them out!" I yelled. From this altitude, the machine guns couldn't hit us, but we could hit them. While the tanks went up in flames, I noticed something explode at the end of the bridge. The Marines had apparently taken out the Self-propelled gun themselves.

"The heavy armor is crossing the first bridge." The Captain reported. Alright, then they should get to this bridge soon as well. I watched as a Hellfire missile destroyed the last tank guarding the other side of the bridge.

"Not a whole lot of AA. They probably didn't expect us." Sarah commented.

"Or they thought the two main batteries would be impassible." I shrugged. "Who cared what those idiots thought? Kill them!" I had to lower the helicopter so Sarah could fire the chain gun again. I swore and jerked back up as two RPGs flew up and nearly missed us. Darren and Jessie nearly got hit as well. More rockets flew at us, though getting considerably less accurate as we went higher.

"They're shooting those off like they have a unlimited supply." Jessie remarked.

"Probably do, just like all the other shit they've pulled out recently." I muttered. The rockets were still flying. Until they stopped, we couldn't clear them out. If we couldn't clear them out, they'd destroy the tanks. "Fucking great." I muttered.

"We need someone to suppress those RPGs." Sarah radioed below.

"Roger. Half our men are incapacitated, but we never back down from a fight!"

"Crazy bastards." I grinned. It was quickly gone. All we could do was circle around while gunfire was exchanged below. We couldn't go forward either until this bridge was cleared out. It was frustrating.

There was a flash of light on the bridge and suddenly the radio became alive with chatter. There was another AT gun on the bridge again, one that had just taken out a tank. "Shit." I muttered.

"All armor, pull back! Pull back!" The Captain ordered.

"If everything stays stalled for too long, it all falls apart." Sarah commented.

"Those troops holding the first battery are going to die if the armor can't reach them. We need someone to take out that AT gun." The tank column radioed.

"Negative. RPG fire is preventing us from getting close." Sarah explained.

"All units hold." The Captain ordered. He better have been trying to figure out to get things moving again. There was swearing below from the Marines as the enemy started firing RPGs into the marshes.

"Assistance will be arriving shortly." The Captain came back on the line. A few moments later, the two Sky Raiders were coming back, probably to re-arm. I watched as they dived and strafed the bridge with machine guns, probably wiping out most the enemy infantry with them before raising again and flying back towards to base.

"Alright. Now we kill them." I immediately lowered the helicopter so that Sarah could get a better shot. Like the first bridge, chain gun fire from both sides obliterated most of the remaining infantry and the anti-tank gun.

"Both bridges are clean as a fucking whistle!" Jessie cheered. "Whoa shit!" Their helicopter jerked to the side as another RPG flew at it.

"Looks like stragglers." Sarah commented.

"Disengage." The Captain ordered. "The bombers are also on their way to rearm. The forward troops need support."

"You all hurry up them." I said, a hint of agitation in my voice. Two helicopters against what was probably the rest of the enemy forces here weren't good odds, except if it was us getting killed. "What do we got left?" I asked Sarah as we flew over the bridge.

"7 Hellfires and two rocket salvos… less then 100 rounds in the chain gun." She finished. If what was left was mostly infantry, then we weren't going to be all too useful.

"Holy Shit." Darren remarked as we flew over the marshes. I whistled softly. There was little solid land , so large groups of units moving either direction had to be grouped together. It looked a bomber had found this particular group: the ground was black and most of it had been blown away (though luckily for them if didn't destroy too much of the road), and scattered on it and floating in the marshes, were the burned remains of vehicles and bodies.

"That explains why they haven't thrown their full weight at us." Sarah commented. "The bombers probably wiped out half of them before they even got to a good fighting position." Sure enough, the further we went the more destruction we saw."

"I'll bet," Darren began. "That they were launching their own offensive when we struck. A second later and we'd be on defense."

"That would've been great." I rolled my eyes. Up ahead, I saw the two bombers fly the other direction, escorted by two specs that were the fighters. I noticed one of the fighters lagging behind and spewing smoke.

"Someone got hit." Sarah sounded worried.

"But they're alive. So focus." I urged. Sarah nodded and turned back to the radio.

"Anyone still down there?" Sarah patched through to the channel the ground forces were on.

"Been better, I'll tell you that much!" The compound and port came into view. The land had turned a lot more firm in the past mile, and the whole base was actually surrounded by land. And something else: The compound was surrounded on three sides by dead bodies and vehicles. The only part not littered with bodies was the land between the port and the base, which looked like a quickly thrown-together air strip. Instead, it was littered with the burning wreckage of helicopters.

And now there were more troops trying to surround the base. "Must be some tough motherfuckers if they've been holding this base this long." Darren remarked. As far as I could tell, the operation had only been commenced for an hour; the whole thing was pretty swift. Still, they were probably hard pressed by now.

"Situation?" Sarah asked.

"The port is under our control. Friendly gunboats are here now. Our defenses in the base are holding. We have four injured. We need fire on the south and east sides!"

"We got the east." Darren volunteered quickly. Their helicopter went around to the other side of the compound.

"Sarah?"

"On it!" I kept the helicopter level as the last of our chain gun ammunition went into the enemy infantry, wiping out all but a few. The remaining ones quickly fled, not realizing we were out of ammo.

"East side clear!" Jessie called. I watched as one of our remaining Hellfire missiles took out the remaining infantry.

"All clear!" I called.

"Enemy infantry retreating!" The commander below called.

"Should we pursue?" Darren asked.

"Negative." The Lieutenant cut in to the coms. "Stay put."

"Got it." Sarah responded. I stopped the helicopter over the compound and hovered. Down below I saw all the troops regroup. I tuned out as they began discussing the next course of action.

"You guys got sent to help, huh?" Dominic's voice rang into my headset. It was a few moments before the Sky Raiders appeared in my vision.

"Yeah, and now the enemy is gone." I hoped to stop him from bragging.

"If they attack again, we're the only ones that can help." Eddie sounded uneasy.

"What the hell you talking about?" The commander asked. Down below, I thought I saw them all look up towards the incoming Sky Raiders.

"There was a Lazurian gunboat hidden in the marshes." Dominic explained. "It fired on the second bridge after only four tanks got over. They aren't risking going over anymore, so it's just us really; the ships are nearly out of ammunition."

"_That's just great." _I thought bitterly as the planes flew off into the distance.

"Any intel on the enemies remaining numbers?" Sarah asked.

"Unknown. Less then 500 most likely." The Lieutenant responded.

"Hmm." Sarah mused.

"Bastards didn't know what hit them!" Dominic laughed. I squinted as a plume of black smoke appeared in the river.

"What the hell is that?" I asked.

"The Destroyer got hit by counter artillery fire." Eddie explained. "They're trying to get to the port."

"Well shit." I muttered.

"We've pretty much already won. But still, things were pretty rough." Sarah noted.

"The second bridge was a real bitch." I agreed. "So what the fuck do we do now?"

"NRA intelligence resources are monitoring to see if the enemy launches a evacuation effort. Standby for new orders." The Lieutenant warned. I looked at the display. 56% fuel left. I exhaled and sat back in my seat.

The radio started crackling, snapping me back alert. The words as indistinguishable as someone tried to talk. "RN-…th Bat…ip en rou…"

"Anyone get something out of that? One of the ground troops below asked. The message cleared up as they found a closer channel.

"This is the RNS _Holland_. Are we in contact with the 12th Battalion?" There was noise in the background, it sounding like shouting almost.

"Affirmative. State your business." The Lieutenant seemed unconcerned with the note of panic in the voice.

"During the fight in the channel, a damaged Lazurian Battleship withdrew towards the eastern flank. I was told this was your area of operations." Battleship?!

"_Oh fuck."_ A battleship? We didn't have the resources to take out a battleship! "Motherfuckers!" I stomped my foot on the floor. A piss poor excuse for a navy, no artillery to surprise it, only two planes with any remote chance to damage it, and most of our forces sitting still? We were screwed.

"It is our area of operations." The Lieutenant confirmed calmly. "What is it's location and state?" I wondered if they made officers uncompassionate bastards for reasons like this. Then again, that Captain Brenner was a decent guy.

"Don't know, sir." The _Holland_ replied. "We were suppose to pursue and finish her off, but she got lucky: we're dead in the water."

"Hmm… Do we have any air units that can confirm?" The Lieutenant turned her attention back to us.

"I'll scan the area." Stone volunteered.

"Look on the good side, old man. You can add a battleship to your kill tally."

"Visual contact confirmed, going in now." Stone reported. I waited impatiently for him to radio back. The troops below were debating on evacuating or not.

"The ship has suffered critical battle damage." Stone got back on the channel. "The guns are stuck broadside and she appears to be leaking fuel and hydraulic fluid. There is very light AA fire."

"If we can disable the engines before she turns, she'll be no threat the ground forces." The Naval Captain said quickly. "Finish her while she's wounded." She advised.

"All aircraft, finish it." The Lieutenant ordered simply.

"_How the hell does she do that?"_

"Alright then!" Dominic actually seemed excited at the prospect. I heard a slight gasping sound which I assumed was Eddie.

"Are we going?" Sarah turned around to face me. I could almost feel her stare through her visors.

"The AA is out. We're going clubbing!" I watched their Apache fly away. I tapped the side of the stick.

"Ah, what the hell." I shrugged. "This will be a fucking awesome story to tell later." I flew after them. It was a few miles to the coast, but we saw the Battleship long before we were in firing range.

"That doesn't look pretty." Sarah commented.

"How's that scrap heap still afloat?" I wondered. The Battleship had a unique quality to it: a 9 gun battery compared to the usual six. While I was sure stacking 3 turrets on each other instead of 2 had been thought of, it was the first time I'd ever seen it. Though it hardly looked threatening now. The guns were stuck sideways; a few of them were bent. There had to be at least seven holes in the hull, which made it lean dangerously to one side. Behind it, the water was black with fluids instead of the usual hazy red.

We got into firing range. The ship was still turning, it seemed, to be able to fire it's immovable guns inland, though it still had a ways to go. The Sky Raiders would make an occasional pass, causing further explosions and fires on the dead. It didn't matter what this thing had on it's service record: with only three AA guns still firing, it was nothing but target practice now.

"We aren't even needed!" I complained.

"Still, not everyday you get to take out something this big, right?" Sarah asked.

"Guess not." I agreed, getting the helicopters closer. "Put everything we got into her!" Sarah made a point to aim some of the remaining Hellfire missiles at the two AA guns on our side and to fire the rocket salvos into the hull. The thing was: they didn't seem to do any damage. From what I could see, the Sky Raiders weren't doing much damage either. "What the fuck are these things made of?" I asked in disbelief as the warning tone said we were completely out of armaments.

"Should we pull out?" Jessie asked.

"Dude, those guns are ready to fire!" Darren warned. In the time we'd been firing, the ship had, slowly but surely, turned so the guns faced inland.

"_Shit."_ What the hell were the guys on the ground going to do?

"Unlikely." The Naval Captain said. "With the current structural damage, the guns- With a colossal sound, 7 of the 9 main guns fired inland. I nearly died of a heart attack when the shells went so close to the helicopter.

"FUCK!" I shouted in frustration as the shells flew inland. "Now the- A bigger sound drowned out my words and next thing I knew, the helicopter was spinning. Before I could even get a grasp on what the hell was going on, the helicopter crashed back to earth.

XX Author's Note XX

Well, at least I didn't upload that chapter before going to Hiatus! I do wonder if the Hiatus announcement did something; the previous chapter has 70 views! Well, anyway, I shall continue both stories now, so watch for updates on Under a Madman's Reign as well. I apologize is James' part felt hollow; I wanted to include his perspective but this chapter was already running far too long.

Leave a review on your way out, and PM any OC applications you may have for any part of the trilogy.


	36. Chapter 35

X James X

I pressed my fingers to the pilot's wrist, trying to find a pulse. There was one. "He's still alive."

"Thank god." His companion sighed and sat back in this chair. In the dogfight our ships had been caught in and our pilot shot down, they'd picked up several people that had abandoned their planes: seven Lazurians, a bomber crew apparently, and six NRA carrier pilots. With the ships in port, the wounded were being moved here into the medic station, the unarmed into the Comm tower, and the prisoners into the mess hall.

Outside, the sailors were working feverishly to repair their damaged Destroyer just as much as we were working feverishly to save the wounded. The lull in the battle might not last long, though it was at least some comfort a few tanks from the 12th had finally got here. They were apparently trying to mend the bridge to get the rest here.

"It was scary." The other pilot leaned forward. However young he was, he was still a Lieutenant, Junior grade like all carrier pilots. "We were the first shot down. When we were floating down, this fighter just rushed past him and the chute collapsed. He hit the water hard, scared the shit out of me!" He said.

"Hmm." I rubbed my crooked jaw. "That might mean internal bleeding." I realized; water was as hard as concrete when falling.

"There's hemostatic medicine in the back." Peter said as he passed. He and Helen were going from bed to bed, making sure the most injured were receiving constant attention. The ship's medical officers were still using the ship's station.

I quickly retrieved the needed medicine and slipped it in his mouth and massaged his throat. "Should do it. Anyone else of your group either?"

"Nah, those chicks from the fighter wing are fine. My chute went off just fine." He shook his head. Nodding, I went on to treat some of the less injured sailors of wounds of burns, shrapnel, and in one bad case, a severed foot.

"Put that on ice." I eyed the bundle one of the sailors at his side was holding. They'd need a actual hospital for that. I kept moving from bed to bed. For the most part, there weren't that many severe injuries. Through skill, and perhaps a bit of good fortune, all of them were stabilized before long. Fortunately, just as Sgt. Anson came in.

"Sitrep?" He asked.

"All patients are stabilized, but some will need further treatment elsewhere." Peter still didn't look up.

"The prisoners?"

"In the mess hall, sir." I said quickly. "I was just about to check on them." In truth, it wasn't so much as for security as worry. Sam was keeping watch on them. He was a good guy at heart, so I doubted he'd do anything. But that might've been the problem.

Surprisingly, when we entered the mess hall we instead found him at the table reading. I recognized the book as a standard issued culture book- even though both countries were very similar, Lazurian culture had its own aspects ours didn't.

"Do they have a separate language?" Sam asked as we walked up, not taking his eye off the book. "That broad that keeps crying kept muttering some crap or another. We thought she was having a stroke, but then the others started doing the same." I looked around in confusion at a unusual sound before realizing it had come from Sgt. Anson. Sam looked up too. "I think she made that same- hey!" Without waiting for him to finish, Sgt. Anson had started towards the back of the building, chambering a round as he did.

"Sir?" I breathed, bringing my rifle up as I followed him. Sam followed behind, muttering something vulgar.

"There's an old language in one of Lazurians northern provinces that is still spoken by a few locals." He explained. "It is also taught to their Special Forces to maintain secrecy. The word I used meant 'kill'."

"_Damn."_ A revolt would not have been good for our already diminished morale. The prisoners were being kept in the kitchen. Even before we went through the door, I could hear a choking voice speaking in it. "How difficult is this language to learn?" I asked.

"Very." Sgt. Anson answered. "They had to remove it from most of our own Special Forces programs." He pushed open the door to the back. The prisoners were sitting on the floor with their hands bound. The girl was still crying, and she had to pause between each word. It tugged at my conscience again. It pulled even harder when Sgt. Anson pressed the barrel of his sniper rifle right to her forehead.

It was somewhat satisfying to see them all stop in blank shock, as it gave me a chance to observe. Compared to the bomber crew, the girl and her companions had a slightly darker shade of skin. Their facial features, namely their slightly larger eyes, also distinguished them.

Sgt. Anson spoke to her in the same language, never breaking eye contact. They were obviously surprised, and perhaps a little afraid. After he stopped, none of them seemed willing to speak again.

The girl finally spoke again, this time not choking between words. On the contrary, she seemed calm till the end of the sentence, when her voice rose and she jerked her head so violently I thought she'd snap her neck. She fell forward and broke down again, not making any effort to sit back up.

"Well?" Sam asked expectantly.

"Nothing of importance." Sgt. Anson dismissed the ordeal. She sobbed harder. The others glared at him. "You're relieved, Corporal. I'll take over watch." There was a tone of finality in his voice. It was for the better anyway.

"Glad to be out of that." Sam propped his rifle over his shoulder. "Those bastards were annoying."

"They're still people." I pointed out.

"They're still bastards." Sam sounded annoyed now. I didn't press the issue as we stepped back outside. I was surprised to see the outside mostly empty. "Where the hell did everyone go?" Sam echoed.

"The ships are evacuating. Any sailor that can walk went with them." Sgt. Anderson explained as he came over. "Where's Riley?" I explained about the pilots. "Huh, I though the Air Force wiped all those people out." He said to himself. "Anyway, collect the men and get back to the walls. Things have gone to hell in the last few minutes."

"Sir?" We both asked.

"Lazurian launched a offensive against the mountains at the same time of our attack." He explained. "They may try and divert men to attack through the mountains. With the bridge wrecked, we may not get reinforcements for a good hour. Or at all if the NRA wants the Battalion to retreat to defend the bases." He shook his head. It wasn't a pleasant thought: us stranded.

"All the commanders are bickering about it." He went on. "The Captain had to get off the line because someone else was yelling at him. But he said to hold this base and protect the wounded. We'll get further orders later."

"They might as well have told us to go fuck ourselves." Sam muttered.

"Not necessarily: the vehicles that got over the bridge are on their way here now, so we won't we alone." Sgt. Anderson informed us.

"_Gives us a better chance."_ It sounded like a good plan. "Will we have the manpower for guarding the prisoners and the wounded?" I asked. Sgt. Anderson seemed conflicted.

"The NRA pilots are still here; they think an NRA transport will pick them up any second. We'll have to trust them to do it."

"_Is that safe for them?"_

"Sounds as risky as our last plan." Sam commented.

"It worked, didn't it?" I pointed out.

"Yeah, and there's still the possibility they won't come at all." Sgt. Anderson's expression hardened. "We're standing here yapping while they're clawing a path through the mountain. Gather the men and get to the wall. Hurry up!" As we walked away, I could quite clearly hear something in the distance: a small explosion and the roar of jet engines.

"_They're not to give up till they hold this region."_

X Tim X

"Shit." I cursed when I realized there was water pooling at my feet. Since the co-pilot seat was lower, Sarah was already waist-deep. I quickly shrugged off all safety restraints, slowing only slight when I realized the water wasn't rising. _"Stupid pricks."_ Why'd they fire is they knew that risk? How many died in that explosion? 2000? How many of ours died? Probably none. "These bastards are crazy." I snarled as I tried to push open the canopy.

"Probably wanted to go out in style." Sarah shivered slightly. I cursed as the canopy opened and more cold water sloshed in.

"You ok?" I asked Sarah.

"Fine, just soaked." She added bitterly.

"Better then dead." I hesitating before leaping out in the water. "Holy shit, it's cold!" I practically yelled as I sunk up to my chest in water. Sarah let out a squeal as she splashed in behind me, the water going up nearly to her neck.

"I'm not much a swimmer." She grabbed on the back of my shirt. I turned and pulled her closer.

"Where the hell is everybody?" I looked up to see the sky clear. Towards the ocean, the battleship was in flames and slowly sinking. I'd walk forward to get a better look, but for all I knew the marsh dropped off. Instead we both moved the other direction.

"Oh fuck everything." I growled when I saw the tail to the helicopter was missing. I didn't much care for that symbolic crap, but I'd been flying this helicopter for years. And there was no repairing it now.

"Oh shit." Sarah muttered. "I think we just got put out of a job."

"Unless you can tell me where we can find another 15 million dollar attack helicopter, I guess we are!" I'd started walking the other direction, since it was the only thing we really could do. Sarah followed, keeping a firm grip on me. "Why do you sound worried?" I added. "I thought you wanted out of this job?" Even saying it made me uneasy. _"But what would I be missing about it?"_ I wondered.

"Yes, because every woman dreams of settling down when there's a war going on. They better get us another goddamnit." She said this last part to herself more then me. I laughed, feeling slightly relieved for some reason.

"How far out in the marshes are we anyway?" I wondered.

"Too far." Sarah answered. "But either way, I think we're out of the action for awhile."

"Don't remind me." I stopped and looked around. To the right were the mountains in the distance. I thought I could see some flashing. To the left, more marshland. In front of me, more marshland. "Wonderful." I muttered.

"Is that a boat?" Sarah said suddenly. I twisted around to see where she was staring. There was something there.

"Might be Lazurian." I reached under the water and pulled out my pistol and shook it to dry the water. "Oh shit." The boat was coming towards us. What could we do? Absolutely fucking nothing but let the gunboat, as we could now see, get closer.

I was irritated to see two rifles and machine gun pointed at me before the all stopped aiming. "What the hell are you two doing out here?" One of them set down his rifle and stretched his hand out. I let them help Sarah up before me. For some reason, it was even colder out of the water.

"Shot down, who the fuck are you?" I tried not to let my teeth chatter. _"Goddamn cold never hurt me before."_

"NRA Navy branch." A tarp was thrown over us and Sarah snuggled in closer as I sat down to lean against the cabin. "We're suppose to pick up a few prisoners from the 12th Battalion and pick up a few of our pilots you guys saved. That's where your from, right?"

"That's our group." Sarah nodded and started straining her wet hair.

"We're here to give them a ride.." The sailor explained. "They were going to send a lander, but we got the job because they said there might be a small enemy presence there. We'll give you guys a ride."

"Thanks." Sarah nodded. I muttered the same.

"_Still a shitty day."_ The fact we were being saved didn't really affect me.

X James X

"They're getting closer…" Nies eyed the horizon.

"Stay focused." I ordered, watching the smoke drifting up from the mountain. The four tanks and three Humvees had taken up positions outside the base where they could fire on the port. The lone AA tank that had made it was within the base for protection. Having taken positions on the wall, we were watching the mountain for enemy troops that might come, at which point we'd have to keep them from the barricade standing in for the metal door.

I'd wondered if they knew we had prisoners, since I knew I'd heard the roar of bombers in the distance. If they did, at least it would null the fear of a artillery or bomber strike.

The ships were long since gone, but we'd yet to get anymore orders from command, only a message that a Chinook was on the way to evacuate the wounded but the other had engine trouble. At times when the explosions died down, we could still hear the wind.

"_I hope they're ok."_ The NRA had held out against constant attacks for a while, and now they were fighting what may well be the last battle of the war, considering the casualties that must be being taken on both sides. _"They're brave, both of them."_ As stupid as Lazuria was, they still fought hard.

"How will they come over the mountain?" Cerutti asked.

"Probably by helicopter." I reflected. "I doubt they have the resources to land more troops."

"This is Phoenix 12-1. It clear down there?" Carpenter asked over the radio. I looked and saw the tiny shape in the distance.

"Copy, stay low and keep the engine running." Sgt. Anderson replied. "Coleman, take your squad and help move the wounded."

"Yes sir." I waved to Cerutti, Nies, and Karst to follow me and we climbed down from the wall. Since most of the sailors had gone with the ships, the base was mostly empty, with the few occupants hiding in the buildings. Of the seventy of so injured, nearly thirty of them were still injured. When I explained it to Peter, he said we could only safely move maybe twenty of them.

"The rest will have to stay till they're stabilized." He said. "But we should be able to fit the others on one bird." I ordered my squad to help move the wounded. By the time the helicopter had found a space within the wreckage large enough land, we were already outside with several casualties. Avoiding the small scraps of metal the blades blew around, we loaded the men in, taking care to make sure they were comfortable.

"Hey!" One of the pilots had come out. "Aren't we leaving?" She asked.

"It's for casualties, Lieutenant." I explained. "It's heading further inland. Just stay inside the buildings." I tried to wave her away. It was too dangerous right now. She looked affronted, but seemed to recognize my request because she headed back for the Comm tower. Behind me, the helicopter began to rise.

"Oh shit!" I saw the helicopter turn suddenly to the side and a missile soared past its flank. "The enemy has AA missiles, we're getting the hell out of here!" Carpenter didn't wait for a order. More missiles flew past the helo, barely missing it.

"Enemy has deployed long range AA missiles!" Sgt. Anderson reported to the Captain. "Shut down all aircraft!"

"Back to your post!" I ordered my squad. We quickly resumed our spot on the wall. I brought my rifle out and examined the mountains through the side. The small dot didn't move over anything I could see that moved.

Yet the explosions were getting louder and louder, coupled with the distant roar of jet engines. They had to know we were here. Then again, if they caught the NRA's Headquarters, the fight was good as done even if we were still here.

We watched, but nothing came. I lost track of the time, but it might have been half an hour before a loud metal _ping_ echoed off the wall. Several more followed in rapid succession. "Snipers!" Sgt. Anson yelled. "Get down!" We all ducked behind the battlements.

"Alright, they'll be providing cover fire for infantry to storm the base!" Sgt. Anderson said. "We need to stop them. Captain Maylou, is that Destroyer rearmed?"

"Negative." Her reply came back. "We just arrived."

"Damn. Any progress on the bridge?" He radioed the Lieutenant.

"Negative." She replied.

"Damn." He repeated. "Alright, new plan people. We need to-

What we had to do, we never found out. At that exact moment, there was a enormous explosion the likes of which we'd yet to ever experience. In a single moment, my hearing and all thoughts were wiped from my brain as it shook within my skull.

Something hit the wall with indescribable force. Without even realizing it, all of us were thrown clear off the wall and on to the concrete below. Facing the red sky above, my mind was unable to register or process anything. Then something blew overhead, obscuring my vision. Over the ringing, some voice told me there was something deeply wrong with this. Suddenly, something grabbed my throat and I realized that I couldn't breath.

"_Mask. Gas mask."_ The words clawed at me. Gas Mask! I closed my mouth and rolled over, tearing my pack off at the same time. My goggles were fogged up, but I dared not to remove them.

With great difficulty, I extracted the piece of equipment and quickly yanked off the bandanna and goggles. I could breath again as soon as put it on. I looked around and could see the outline of my comrades withering around through the dust. I could worry about what the hell happened later, they needed my help.

X With Tim X

"Jesus!" I grabbed Sarah and ducked as the boat rocked back and both. My words were echoed vulgarly by the crew. Though when the ship didn't sink, something that would've perfectly ended this shitty day, we both looked up. I would've muttered 'damn', but the word got caught in my throat. The mountain seemed to have been blown apart. Huge clouds of red dust were flying out and blocking it from view.

"Oh my god." There wasn't amazement or shock in Sarah's statement. It was fear. Hell, it made my stomach flip. Whatever had just happened, it made one thing clear: these bastards would resort to whatever efforts to win, no matter the cost. We were pawns, disposable ones at that.

"I think retirement might be the safer option." I conceded. "It ain't worth it if this is what they'll resort to."

"Did our guys even get out?" One of the sailors asked. There was no way that hadn't affected some of our own guys. I sat back down, Sarah sitting on my lap. I didn't even pay attention to the sailors and wrapped my arms around her waist.

"I don't think so…" His companion answered.

"That's fucked up." I commented. _"Almost sounds like something Waylon would do."_ I wondered if that bastard was out here? I watched the clouds drift out. "What about our guys?" I asked out loud. Their base had been right beside the mountain, hadn't it?

"God have mercy." The same sailor shook his head. Without any warning, his friend turned and blew chunks into the water. Sarah sunk down onto the floor and leaned against my legs.

The boat stopped suddenly. The Captain, a man so old he was probably a veteran of the last war, emerged from the cabin and shook his head. "We can't go in there. The engine would get clogged. Sorry you to, but you're coming back with us."

"Fine." I said. "That's fine." I shook my head. _"That could've been us."_ I realized. If that battleship hadn't shown, we probably would've stayed near the base. Gone. Just like that. Maybe retiring wasn't such a bad idea: There were some desperate people we were helping. Desperate enough not to care about us.

"_I didn't sign up for this shit." _I thought as the boat turned around.

X James X

I didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing I could consciously remember was dragging someone away into one of the buildings. The next I found myself laying on the floor with a 12th Battalion soldier above me.

"Get up." He pulled me up. "We're getting the hell out this hellhole."

"What happened?" I asked groggily, picking momentarily at my gas mask till I remembered what it was. I looked around. The hell that had engulfed as seemingly minutes ago was gone. Had I slept right through it? Maybe I passed out?

"NRA is saying some arm catches in the mountain got set off. I've never seen a supply point make that big an explosion, though." He added. I stood up and stumbled for a minute before looking around.

Our own soldiers, either too stunned or tired to move themselves, were being helped by the others. "I give you guys credit: that must've been terrifying." He went on.

"Yeah…" I didn't even remember it. The whole memory had seemed to turn into a blur. I turned my head back and forth to check my hearing. It didn't seem to be damaged.

"The NRA pulled out of the region hours ago. Captain Brenner refused till we had everyone though. All units are being recalled closer to the Capital." He explained.

"Victoria." I said dazedly. _"They must be worried sick." _

"Come on, your disoriented." He dismissed my rambling and guided me outside. "I hope the rest of the war isn't this crazy." This sentence seemed to clear my mind.

"_Even if it is, I'm still determined to finish it."_

"You alright, Coleman? You inhaled some of the dust and passed out." A voice interrupted me, though who the owner was I couldn't really name right now.

"Yes sir." I said to the ground, and suddenly a tightness came to my throat.

"Alright…get him to the truck. Let's get the fuck out of this place." The voice ordered.

XX Author's Note XX

Confused? That's because so are the characters; give them time to digest it. I know it seems like I wrapped things up rather suddenly, but it'll all be explained in the next chapter. Besides, it's significance isn't in this leg of the story. The 12th Battalion just witnessed it.

One of the things I frown about is how I can't write one leg without spoiling events in another. But with so few people left, contact in inevitable.

Leave a review with comments, praise, constructive criticism, or ideas if you so please. I'm slightly worried my quality is diminishing because I'm cutting the occasional corner to make sure updates aren't that slow. The next one is a important chapter character-plot wise so it may take a while.

Also…thank you! We've surpassed 2,000 views.


	37. Chapter 36

X Rubinelle Presidential Palace X

The new world had not recognized such a peace since it's creation. In the past 72 hours not one bullet, shell, or missile had been fired. Each force was simply pulling back to their respective center of operations.

The Rubinelle Capital had had taken excessive damage in the ending days of the conflict. Lazurian missiles had rained on the Capital and cleared the way for bomber raids, though sporadic due to the constantly shifting balance in the channel. The NRA's base remained active, though.

Greyfield was as far from pleased as humanly possible. He'd been treated to nothing but casualty reports for the course of the offensive. He did not like this. How could he reach any of his goals without troops?

"How many are left?" He demanded of the NRA staff before him.

"Us, or theirs?" The Navy officer sitting in on of the seats said venomously. Captain Morado had been killed during the fighting, and the 3rd Fleet essentially put out of commission till their ships could be repaired.

"Both!" Greyfield snapped angrily at the officer; such disrespect was unacceptable! Beside him, Greyfield's personal guard unlatched his handgun holster beneath the table.

"We have about 9,000 Marines left, half of them currently incapacitated." Alisa Brann reported. If the Marine commander had looked ragged when the war picked up, she looked almost like a walking corpse. "There were 20,000 in channel and another 20,000 here on home defense. We had to ship most of them out." Greyfield did not this news at all.

"The remaining are on permanent duty here!" He ordered; the prospect of having no forces at his immediate command was almost frightening. The Air Force, Navy, and Army would have to finish the war. He turned to the Admirals. "How many ships remain?" He demanded.

"We have a Battleship and three Cruisers." The officer now in charge of the 3rd fleet responded. "All of them are damaged."

"The _Odin, Garm, _and _Pontus _made it through with damage, but we lost the rest of our battleships. We got a submarine and thirteen cruisers and a destroyer." Admiral Ryman went on. Greyfield's face was turning a rather dangerous looking shade of purple. His Navy! His greatest asset. Gone! He made a note to execute all POWs later for revenge.

"And you?" He turned to Captain Hamilton. His most efficient Admiral surely had good news. Greyfield was not disappointed.

"The _"Hellhound_ and _Doberman_ survived without battle damage." He reported. "The battleship _Aegir _and Carrier _Saga_ are also operational. 68% of our Cruiser and Destroyer escorts were damaged but preserved. Any other Naval Detachments have been destroyed as far as our sources can determine.

Greyfield whipped around as to not let them see his face. Those were the only ships he had left… "How many ships does Lazuria have?" He wheeled around and demanded.

"Based on our reports, they maintain 3 battleships and a pair of carriers." Now Greyfield was grinning again; he now outnumbered them. "They still have a significant gunboat fleet though." This news sailed over Greyfield's head.

"Effective immediately, all remaining ships will be repaired and formed into one fleet under Admiral Hamilton." Greyfield declared. Hamilton nodded in acceptance. If the two other navy officers were offended, they didn't show it. "I want the rest of their wretched country's navy destroyed as soon as possible!" He ordered before rounded on the frail old man in one of the other chairs. "How many troops does our Army maintain?"

"About 13,000 total." General Stanhope responded tiredly. "Down from 30,000." Even Lazuria's first counter-attack hadn't been so deadly. "There's only four units I still confirm are independently combat capable: the 332nd and 334th Regiments of the 49th Airborne Division, the 12th Armored Battalion, and the 80th Attack Helicopter Squadron. We got artillery and anti-air remnants everywhere. And I think the 1st and 4th Armored Divisions are trying to regroup all their tanks."

"And Lazuria?" Greyfield demanded.

"They still have more tanks then us, but we seem to have decimated their artillery branch." Greyfield nodded. "But we still have man shortage on our end. We got a lot of vehicles without men to command them." Greyfield nodded tightly. It was a reversal of fortunes.

"Very well. Regroup all units and replace the older equipment. I want our forces to be using only the most modern weapons." He ordered. "Except the 12th Battalion." He added as a afterthought, remembering just who commanded it. He paused to think about it.

"Are they here yet?" He asked. When Stanhope shook his head, Greyfield went on. "When they do, I'll give more orders." He turned to the other commanders. Shane Kealey seemed the least aged of everyone, Waylon excluded. Then again, the casualty figures for the irregular forces were lower then any other branch.

"Still got a good 7,000 men, down from 9,000." Greyfield nodded approvingly.

"Then you shall get a promotion." He decided. This was essentially meaningless, since everyone was already serving in posts below their rank. "Waylon?" Greyfield turned to the last officer. Waylon paused from his burger and picked up a piece of paper in front of him, muttering when he got grease all over the numbers.

"Yeah, uh… We still got 119 fighters, 25 bombers, 72 Sky Raiders and some 34 attack helicopters." His eyes went to the bottom of the list he took another bite of his food. "Those chumps still got 90 fighters, 15 bombers, and 97 of those Sturmovik scrap heaps." Waylon let the paper fall to the floor and continued his eating. "About 100 Hinds, too."

"Very well. Very well…" Greyfield said quietly. "Now, on to more important matters. What was that damn weapon the Lazurians used on the mountain?!" Greyfield's voice rose, and he banged angrily on the table. It had taken all his self control up to this point to not order someone hanged.

The very idea was horrid: the drop in morale it would cause, the influence Lazuria would wield, the end to Greyfield's ambitions… They had to destroy it immediately. "Davis!" Greyfield roared. The man cautiously crept forward with the report Rubinelle intelligence services had compiled.

"Well…umm…the Capitol's whole Air Defense system got trashed." He glanced fearfully up at the ceiling, where most of the lights had broken and fallen. "Most of our bunkers and any sort of fortification are destroyed…" Now he looked fearfully at Greyfield. "They uh…don't know what the weapon was." He braced himself.

"Then they are lousy, incompetent fools!" Greyfield said angrily. "And they will pay for it. But the rest of the report first, Davis."

"Well…" He looked down at the sheet. "Uh…according to messages they intercepted, Lazuria thinks we detonated the weapon…" This even caught Greyfield by surprise.

"Could another country be involved?" General Stanhope pondered. This would be even worse to Greyfield: foreigners meddling in his ideals. He'd get to them eventually.

"That mountain used to house a weapon research facility." Brann said. "If anything, it was a freak accident. No other country had reasons to get involved." Rubinelle barely had any diplomatic ties with other countries, and no bases outside their own country.

"Did it?" Greyfield looked at her accusingly. "Why was I not aware of it before?" He demanded. His bodyguard pulled out his pistol under the table.

"It got decommissioned a few years ago." She answered calmly. "One of my Marines there reported finding a tunnel it used to move cargo. There's no telling what was down there."

"An accident…" General Stanhope looked pale. Losing troops in battle a horrible thing. But by something that could've been prevented…

"Have all troops recalled the Capitol for reorganization." Greyfield ordered. Aside from that, the troops could indulge in some special treatment. Loosening such restrictions were what had guaranteed Greyfield their loyalty.

"More then that, we'll have to change strategies." Admiral Ryman warned. "We don't have the forces to form garrisons anymore. We'll have to switch to direct action tactics." No one vocally argued with him.

"Let's just get everything in order again before we do that." Kealey suggested. Greyfield nodded.

"Very well then…Dismissed." He thundered, and the staff left. "Watch that officer." Greyfield hissed to his body guard. "She is withholding information." The guard nodded and followed her. Greyfield was left to his own thinking.

He had the irregular forces largely intact. And by the time his regular forces rearmed themselves, he could give them most of the older equipment and make them much more potent. Then there was the 12th Battalion…

"A threat." Greyfield held that view since we first heard of their existence. But, he thought, they could become useful yet…

X Tim X

"This place is trashed." I looked at the Capital as the ship sailed into port. Having rode on a gunboat and a Cruiser for two days, I'd been looking forward to a warm and comfortable bed. It probably wasn't there any more. It pissed me off. _"So much for home."_

Sarah's entire idea seemed ridiculous now, but if the apartment was destroyed, the idea would probably go with it. We hadn't got paid in over a year; so unless we were issued another building, it was back to a tent. I hated the idea now.

Sarah sighed beside me. "It's worth checking." She pointed out. I grunted in response.

"You think the rest of them are here?" I asked.

"I'm pretty sure the Battalion was clear of whatever blast that was." Sarah said thoughtfully. "Not sure about those other guys…" I didn't answer. Shit happens; they were probably dead. Leaving that unsaid, we departed.

The neighborhood the apartments were in was actually pretty damn okay. "Maybe." I left it at that. Sarah also look hopefully. "Still leaves the question of what the fuck we're going to do." Helicopters weren't cheap. They were hard to get even before the sky fell.

"We can figure it out tomorrow." Sarah yawned. "I'm tired. Those beds on the ship are impossible to sleep on."

"You can say that again." I agreed; it had felt like sleeping on a stone. My face fell. "Damn it." I looked at the ruined bar. _"So much for getting wasted."_ Sarah didn't comment on it.

We walked on in silence. It was like the whole damn city was dead. Aside from the people we'd seen at the port, there wasn't anyone else. Kinda creepy, actually, and cold.

"Kind of makes you wonder if people still want to fight." Sarah said quietly, always somehow being able to read my mind.

"I don't blame them if they don't. This war is fucking crazy." I spotted the street the apartments were on. Or had been. They might've been destroyed. We both stopped before turning the corner onto the street and looked at each other.

"No point waiting." We both agreed. We stepped around the corner. Sarah sighed loudly in relief; the whole street was unharmed. We both nearly ran to the building. As soon as we entered the apartment lobby, we could already tell the building was deserted.

"No one is even back yet." I realized.

"Good." Sarah seemed to like the news. "I'd like a peaceful nap." She might've, but I felt strangely alone. This pretty much evaporated when I stepped inside.

"Home sweet home." I stretched out on the bed. Sarah flopped down beside me.

"First time we've ever been truly alone recently, isn't it?" She asked.

"I guess it is." I admitted. "Oof." Sarah rolled over and sat on me.

"We should take advantage of that." She grinned.

"I thought you wanted to take a nap?" I grinned back.

"Later." She leaned down. "I don't think we'll ever get another opportunity like this again…"

As fun as it was, I couldn't help but notice Sarah acting oddly. She seemed more anxious for some odd reason. It was reason enough to stop and out right ask her.

"…Shit." She seemed to think she'd been putting up a good act. She tossed my clothes in my face. "Get dressed; what I'm about to say is too important."

The look on her face did not put me at ease. Her mouth seemed tight like she was trying not to frown. Her eyes seemed…afraid?

"I'm listening." I couldn't keep the edge out of my voice; I still didn't like these conversations.

"Fine. Better to be straight forward." She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them and looked straight at me. "I want a-" A crash outside cut her off.

"Hey man, watch where you step!" Darren yelled.

"Dumbass." Jessie added.

"Fuck you guys!" Dominic shot back. I was so busy staring at the door that I didn't notice Sarah's expression change. When I did, I nearly jumped back against the wall. She looked, quite simply, ready to murder someone.

"Well…they got back pretty fast." I said uneasily. Sarah didn't respond. I reached out for her shoulder, but she slapped it away and buried herself under the covers. _"Assholes."_ I thought irritably as I got up. "What the hell are you doing?" I thrust my head out the door.

If I hadn't been thinking of Sarah, I would've laughed at how Dominic practically smashed his head on the ceiling as he jumped up. And how there was a wet spot in his pants when he landed.

"Holy shit!" He rubbed his head. A pair of hands beat on my shoulders. Jessie and Darren were too busy laughing their asses off to talk. Behind them, Lance and Sofia (I guess they survived) looked at me in surprise.

Stone forced his way through the crowd building up and stopped in front of me. He didn't seem surprised. Hell, nothing ever probably could surprise him anymore. "Yeah, the NRA picked us up, we just got here. Helicopter's gone though." I guessed and answered his question.

"It lowers our casualty rate." He said. "The Captain will be pleased to know."

"Uh huh." I nodded.

"We're on rest for the next several days." He informed me. "Use it to find another helicopter." Again, I nodded. He left, ushering the others too. Jessie and Darren gave me a thumbs up while Dominic sulked off to find new pants. The bomber crews walked past, some of them waving. That brat just glared at me and Clarissa didn't make eye contact. Fucking kids. My eye rose when no one else came.

"Where the hell are the others?" I asked. Behind me, I heard Sarah shift.

"They're drinking to their squadron mate's memory." One of the bomber crews called back. I snorted; none of them were even old enough to drink. I just shook my head and closed the door again. Kim and Eddie would probably throw a fit when they saw us. Better later then now.

"Well, that ruined the mood." I commented. Sarah refused to respond. "You're not going to tell me?"

"It's not the time." She grumbled. I knew a lost cause when I saw one.

"Whenever it is, then." I laid down beside her and drifted off to sleep, thinking only faintly about our odds of acquiring another helicopter.

X James X

I raised the rifle and fired once, ending the 21 gun salute. I rested it by my side. A group of Marines presented the same honor to their own. Casualties for the 12th Battalion had been light compared to the NRA: Renfew, a fighter pilot, two helicopter pilots, and a few Marines. We were giving them a proper funeral. The poor soldiers on mountain would never get one…

Even now, it was still a subject of discussion. No arms dump could create an explosion that big. And some NRA soldiers we'd talked to had informed us that reinforcements had been climbing the mountain when it went off. It had created a sense of fear and uneasiness, like all mysteries.

The Capitol had been damaged during the fighting too. Cruise missiles and then bombers, apparently. Buildings and stores for any goods soldiers indulged on were destroyed. It cast a even deeper shade of gloom over us then normal. Captain Brenner said a few words once the salute was over and allowed us to go into the city to relax.

"_He's a good guy."_ The NRA had withdrawn from the region as soon as the bomb went off. But he'd stayed just to make sure we were okay. It was a comforting thing to know.

The service over, I tried to find Peter; we needed to go check up on our aunt and Victoria. My own squad was mourning the loss of their team member. In a way, it made me guilty; as far as I knew, they didn't have family to return to.

I eventually found Peter and Helen talking with another medical officer. He turned when I came up. "Sorry." Peter apologized. "But the hospitals are understaffed, we need to go help." I nodded; the uniform dictated his priorities.

"When I find them, I'll tell them you're okay." I told him. He nodded and the pair of them followed the medical officer. I noticed their shoulders brushing. _"None of my business."_ I shrugged. I set off for the civilian district of the Capital.

I admittedly gave credit to Lazuria's Air Force and Strategic Rocket Forces; the civilian section of the Capital were relatively well off compared to the leveled buildings and collapsed streets of the rest of the city. But did they also hit the farms and factories? They were fair targets in war, even if civilians were employed there.

"_Please let them be okay."_ I didn't want to lose any more of my family; they were more important to me then my duty as a soldier… Some people in civilian clothes were out and about in the street, though they didn't dare venture far. It wasn't till I turned onto the street they were on did I notice something odd going on.

"You seen anything suspicious?" A Rubinelle Marine walked over towards me. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously.

"Nothing really." I pulled the bandanna off my mouth. He visibly relaxed.

"Your accent checks out." He nodded. "A couple of Lazurian pilots brought in as POWs got loose. We're looking for them. They might be in disguise for all we know." I wondered what had been done with our own prisoners we captured. Probably turned them over.

"Was one of them a female pilot?" I asked. "My unit caught a few POWs."

"12th Battalion?" I nodded. "Yes, Corporal, they're yours."

"Damn." I forgot about my aunt and Victoria for a moment. The idea of those pilots, let alone ones with secret communications, didn't sit well with me. _"Would they threaten civilians?" _My hand twitched towards my sidearm. The Marine nodded.

"On with your business, but the orders are to shoot on sight." I nodded. We saluted each other as a matter of formality and I kept on my way. It might've made sense to store my equipment before coming, but the matter was far too urgent.

Apartment H, Floor 4, room 49. The whole city was organized on a grid now. I hesitated and knocked on the door. Almost immediately, the door was torn open and Victoria flung herself at me.

"You're okay!" She half sobbed.

"Of course kiddo." I patted her head. "We both are, Peter just had to stay and help." I let her drag me inside, and stopped in surprise. Our aunt was slumped in one of the arm chairs tiredly with her face in her hands. A man, tall and with black hair, was standing in front of her. I didn't even have to see 'Coleman' on his uniform's front tab to realize who it was.

Chester turned and looked at me in surprise, his eyes darting to my uniform and the Chevrons on my shoulder. My aunt looked up in surprise too. "Oh, James, we didn't know if you made it or not!" She seemed faintly embarrassed. "Victoria, come help me in the kitchen." She got up quickly and nearly dragged Victoria into the kitchen with her.

Chester, like his younger sister, had grown in few years since I'd last seen them. He was shorter then me, but taller still. He was thinner, like Peter, but less muscular then the pair of us. His face was still smooth and childish, a odd comparison to the dark look in his eyes. _"What did the war do to you?"_

"Been a while." I didn't sit down for fear of dirtying the furniture, but I rested the butt of my rifle on the floor and placed my helmet over the tip. Our contact back home hadn't been constant; the age and location distance was to thank. But we'd still played a ball game with the other kids or talk about events going on around the country. I could clearly remember the shining look on his face when we revealed we were enlisting. Now his face had a different look, one I recognized immediately.

"Not so easy, is it?" I nodded sympathetically. "Some people just ain't cut out for it." I wondered if it might've been insulting to him; ground work was a lot more stressful then being a pilot. He shook his head but didn't speak. "You should just resign." I suggested. "They need you here." I tried to reason.

When I first heard he was serving, I'd been proud of his resolve. I'd been worried when our aunt said he was stressed. But now that I could see he was visibly wasting away…

"I can't." He seemed pale. His voice wasn't deep as expected.

"No one would think less of you." I reasoned. I knew I wouldn't. And what officer would? "Look at how they are." I motioned towards the kitchen. "They need protection and help."

"That's what I'm doing." Without waiting for a answer, he pushed past me and hurried out the apartment. I stood in confusion while I ran over the occurrence. The first contact with him in years and it was so brief.

"_He seemed so agitated and frightened…"_

"He's been like that." Victoria came out of the kitchen. "He just came to see if we were alive. We tried telling him about you, but they got into a fight." She jerked her head towards the kitchen.

"Well, it is a very stressful job." I reminded her. _"Let alone a kid."_ I suddenly felt hypocritical; my squad was his age too. My aunt didn't come out of the kitchen. "What were they arguing about?" I whispered.

"She wanted him to come home too." She whispered back. She looked sad. I stood up and stared at the door where he stormed out. Why wouldn't he want too? I stayed and talked to Victoria for a little while longer, asking her how work was going. When my aunt hadn't come back out I admitted defeat and left, promising to come back tomorrow.

"_I'll tell Peter about it."_ He'd studied psychology a bit, maybe he could help. I didn't like seeing my remaining family torn like that. Hell, the family would die out if the war didn't end soon enough.

XX Author's Note XX

Disappointedly, I couldn't include a important scene in this chapter; it'll have to be in one of the next.

I'm glad to say we can return to the game storyline now. After another chapter (next is a filler to fix a few inconsistencies and such), we shall see History of Hate.

Leave a review on your way out.


	38. Chapter 37

X James X

Peter had been shocked when I relayed my encounter. Chester's character change was very distressing. Peter suggested some sort of PTSD. We'd thought about staging a intervention, only to find out from a NRA pilot he'd already been redeployed.

More disturbing was the next day visit. Our aunt acted as if nothing was in the wrong. Victoria was the same. We didn't dare pursue the issue directly, and the visit seemed to have a thick air around it.

"I hear the war is still going on." Victoria said sometime later. We unfortunately had to confirm that thought. We'd received the news ourselves that morning. It was disappointing to many; for some even more. I'd seen it in the faces of wounded soldiers when I stopped by the hospital that morning. No one wanted to continue this fighting. I most certainly didn't; not when it was hurting what was left of my family. I could see the worry in their eyes every time we left.

"_They're being asked for too much…"_

"I think it's a terrible thing." Our aunt showed the first sign of fierceness. "It does horrible things to people. Why, I still remember when you boys were handsome and well mannered." This stuck me with a un-expressible disturbance. We'd kept our humanity, hadn't we? Out aunt returned to her rather distant self and we left an hour later, promising to come back as soon as we could.

The following day, we were conducting a training exercise along side the NRA Special Forces. Considering the history behind them, I still thought our force was very well trained. But watching them compete alongside battle-hardened Spec Op troops renewed my doubts. Hell, I nearly felt inadequate next to them.

Sgt. Anson seemed to particularly fit in with them. It was perhaps because sniping was generally associated with Special Forces. Or maybe it was mentality.

"I sure as hell wasn't trained for anything like that." Collins panted, brushing dirt off the chevrons on his shoulder. We'd agreed on the need for another officer to help lead, and Collins had been the most qualified.

"I wasn't either." I admitted, watching the exercise unfold from the hill. Army gunboats were crossing the artificial lake while live ammunition was fired a safe but close distance above them. As soon as they got close to the shore, the troops on board would dismount and crawl up the beach at a nearly un-human pace. It was almost like watching snakes move.

"I've only seen Marines move like that." I heard Sgt. Anderson comment somewhere to our left.

"Yeah, well we had to learn a few new tricks after the fighting at Scissors Basin." The Spec Ops Corporal responded. I turned my ears to the conversation; I'd heard Sgt. Anderson mention the place during training once. It was a mountainous but marshy land in Southern Lazuria.

"Again?!" Sgt. Anderson suddenly seemed angry, and several more heads turned towards him.

"Yes sir." For all their reputation, I couldn't blame the Corporal's hesitance. "Army Airborne troops and the Air Force were fighting there a few months ago." Sgt. Anderson snorted.

"My brother was a tank driver for the Marines. He died there trying to get his tank out of the mud." I looked in time to see Sgt. Anderson was no longer looking at the landing, but the sky. He'd never mentioned having a brother previously. Then again, he'd never mentioned how him and Sgt. Anson had become friends either, and several trainees had actually asked that.

"_It was probably the circumstances…"_ There were few good ways to meet in a war.I'd never really found myself that curious about his past; I'd initially only known him from training, and the rest of the time we've been technically deployed. I waited, but he didn't elaborate. The Corporal didn't press any further, leaving my own curiosity burning. I wasn't the only one; Sam approached me later after training when a group of us were all heading what was apparently the last bar in the city.

"Kind of odd he'd never mention it." Sam said. The issue only seemed of interest to the three of us. Now that I'd thought about it, I couldn't blame him. If Peter got killed, I wouldn't be surprised. But it would still hurt…

"The war was a pretty horrible thing." Peter reminded us. "He lived through it. It's an amazing feat he is still sane."

"Because using live ammunition is the sane way to train someone." Sam's remark wasn't scolding, but somewhere between curious and worried. I felt a impulse to yell at him. Sgt. Anderson had been a good leader the past year, and he had trained us well. He'd even saved our lives on several occasions.

I realized in spite of that, I still barely knew him. He'd been a trainer for the past two decades, and a soldier before that. That's all we really knew. He knew even less about Sgt. Anson.

This new interest distracted my mind enough to the point I did not notice a tank commander walking towards us. "You're 12th Heliborne, right?" He asked.

"Yeah." Collins responded.

"Return to your barracks and grab your kits." He said. Behind us, the few Privates that had opted to follow us groaned out. "Some new orders came in. We're leaving in an hour." I felt bad when I realized we wouldn't have a chance to say goodbye to Victoria or our aunt. But we quickly hurried back to the barracks and had all our equipment ready for inspection by the time Sgt. Anson and Sgt. Anderson came in. Sgt. Anderson spoke to us briefly.

"Now, I understand some of you may be jumpy. Your fear is well founded." He nodded tensely. "Even more so since it's not immediately clear what we're doing." This caused some noticeable but non-vocal alarm.

"_What?"_ It didn't make sense; the war was still going on, we should be getting clearer orders then that.

"What the hell kind of deployment is this?" Sam broke discipline and outright asked.

"I was wondering that myself." To our surprise, he wasn't reprimanded. Sgt. Anderson went on: "Apparently we'll receive further orders upon arrival." It was clear he didn't like the idea. "For those who did not hear, we are deploying to the city of Valdell, 243 miles west of here. It is of little strategic value, but I want everyone to stay ready. We will not cave, no matter what tricks Lazuria may attempt. Do you understand?!" He voice rose to a yell.

"Sir, yes, Sir!" Ours was much louder. I was confident none of us were lying. I knew I wasn't, This war was getting more destructive by the day. And we had to end it. By any means possible.

X Tim X

Fear was for pussies. Nothing could be gained from it, I'd repeated that much to myself my entire life. But it was the most appropriate word I could think of at the moment. Of what?

Sarah.

I didn't know what the fuck love was, but I still used the word. I still wasn't truly sure what kept us together, but we just worked like that. Balance, or something like that. I never could put words to any of that emotional crap. The simple fact was I cared about her, and I didn't want her to be hurt or upset.

Despite that, I wasn't oblivious to her character. Considering how she grew up and the effects of it she still felt to this day, I wasn't surprised that she sometimes broke down; it was a lot of shit to carry. The problem was she might become extremely violent during one of those episodes. I'd only seen it happen to other people, thank god. And it hasn't happened a whole lot; Clarissa being the most recent example out of maybe six other cases throughout the years.

I was worried there'd soon be another. In the two or so days we'd been in the Capitol, she'd refused to so much as to leave the apartment. I'd asked her more then once what she'd wanted to speak to me about, but she put it off. Not even Kim practically crying over us still being alive cheered her up, or the fact the two brats had apparently gotten together (I didn't know the details, and I honestly didn't give a fuck). She'd just sat around with some weird face.

I'd tried to act normal. I'd already gone and seen the Captain and explained about the helicopter. He'd said he'd look into it, but couldn't make any promises. Honest guy. But it did little to distract me. Something was wrong. And I was stuck wondering what the hell it would evolve into. Finding a kitchen knife lodged deep into the wall hadn't eased my fears.

She hadn't said anything when we found out we were moving out again so soon. She hadn't even complained when she found out we'd have to ride with the ground troops while the others flew ahead.

Maybe I was paranoid. But I hadn't taken chances. I'd stayed at the apartment the rest of our time there. Sarah noticed, but didn't complain. She actually seemed to enjoy my presence, spending hours at a time sleeping beside me while I watched the television repeats of past battles. I seemed to keep her calm.

And now that we were in the truck, I kept a arm firmly around her shoulder at all times. I tried to keep it normal though. The Marines in the truck just so happened to be one of the bunches that took the bridges, so there was some conversation.

"Whole goddamn plan went to shit when they hit the bridge." One of them was complaining. "And it was a brilliant fucking plan!"

"'No plan of battle ever survives contact with the enemy.' That shit's still true today." They were mostly talking to each other rather then us. But they weren't entirely ungrateful bastards.

"Helicopters balance it out pretty well though." One of them nodded at us. I nodded back. It was pretty much impossible not to feel awkward, but I still responded.

"Eh, the AA was a big pain in the ass, so thanks for that."

"Like those pussies could stop us." He stabbed a finger to his chest. "If something's our target. We're sure as hell going to take it." I didn't doubt it.

The conversation died down, and half of us pretty much fell asleep till the asshole driver woke us up by driving off road. "Sorry boys, stalled Abram." That didn't stop us from cursing him out.

Sarah, yawned, stretched, and rest her head back against my shoulder. She didn't seem to notice the other people sitting nearby. Or didn't care. _"What is she thinking?"_ Her calm attitude was a front, I knew that damn well. _"All she has to do is tell me."_ She could've at any time.

But we fell back asleep and the ride was again uneventful for several hours until this time the horn woke us up. Sarah sat up and yawned again, kneading her hands anxiously in her lap and biting her lip. She looked at me in slight fear.

"What a shit hole." The driver commented. I looked out the back at the cracked and worn highway we were on. Now that I was awake, it was pretty damn bumpy. Sarah squeaked and shuffled her hands with each one. I leaned forward slightly so the Marines didn't see the red on her face.

The truck eventually crossed a large suspension bridge, also in shitty quality. "Why the hell would anyone want THIS city?" The Marine in the passenger seat commented. I turned around and looked through the small window. The city looked industrial, but everything had since closed down.

"The river below us?" A Marine suggested. "How far are we from the ocean?"

"At least ninety miles. I doubt Lazuria can launch another amphibious operation. This city doesn't make nothing good by the looks of it. It's probably just a stop on the supply routes."

"Sounds reason enough." The Marine next to him muttered. The truck entered the city limits, but I didn't take in the details. By the sounds of things, we might actually get another helicopter. We could get back in air and off-

"Eeeh." Sarah whined under her breath.

-these damn roads with these crowded trucks. It was another five minutes before the trucks finally started stopping and the officers began calling everyone to attention to lay out rules and instructions. We'd been told we had to find the air strip near the outer area of town. First though, other stuff.

It kind of pissed me off, seeing Sarah almost limp across the street red-faced. It made me want to punch someone. I stepped ahead and opened the door for her. The guy behind the restaurant counter looked up at us as we entered. Sarah quickly ran towards the back while I took a seat at the counter.

"Can I get you anything?" He asked, picking a dusty menu out from under the counter.

"Eh, sure." I reached into my pocket for that damn coupon book. What was a bite to eat? I hadn't been able to get one in the Capital. The guy looked relieved. I glanced at the menu while thumbing through the book. "Steak? Hell, I couldn't get one of those back in the Capital!" The manager nodded in approval.

"Steak coming right up." He said. It took five minutes for the steak to be put in front of me, and five for me to finish it. Sarah was absent the whole time. I sighed inwardly, realizing something was wrong. I got up and walked towards the back of the restaurant. Even standing in front of the door to the single bathroom I could hear a retching sound.

Sure enough, Sarah was vomiting her guts out when I opened the door. She looked up at me. I was worried at how pale she seemed. What the hell was wrong with her? She shook her head and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

"I'm fine." She pushed down on the lever and stood up. She swayed and ducked back down, gripping the seat before puking again. I sighed and stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind me.

"Sarah. I'm starting to worry." I rubbed her back. "For gods sake, what's wrong?" She wretched again before flushing and slumping back on the floor. She used the toilet to steady herself and stood up, wobbling on her legs.

"I just need some fresh air." She stumbled and would've hit the door headfirst if I hadn't grabbed her.

"C'mon." I picked her up and carried her out. She didn't complain. And I didn't care about the stares we were getting outside either. It was almost funny. A year ago, I'd never do anything remotely open in public. I walked till we eventually came to a highway overpass.

I let her down and she sighed and sat down against the concrete barrier. I stared at the road beneath. Deserted. _"What a shit hole town." _Where to start? Waiting for her to tell me wasn't the best course of action. I just wasn't sure how I suppose to convince her. I didn't need too.

"Tim? Do I ask too much from you?" Sarah asked. She turned and looked up at me. I stared back at her.

"What kind of question is that?" I looked back over the barrier. An odd question meant progress.

"I'm worried I ask too much of you." She said. "You give me so much already. You put up with my mood swings."

"They aren't that common."

"You put up with me being a broken child."

"You're not broken."

"You don't care about my problem. Hell, you've held my hand more then once."

"Ehh…" The statement embarrassed me enough I didn't respond.

"What the hell have I given you in return?" She said seriously. "You practically gave me a reason to live! And here I am wanting to ask for something more."

"Now you're overstating it." I turned at her. "You gave a lot more to me then I could say. Have I ever said no to you? I don't know why you're still insecure after all this time. Be direct like you tried before."

"I don't know why I act like I little bitch all the time." She stood up and stretched. "I just do it without thinking about it."

"Sounds familiar." I commented. "I still don't have a fucking clue why I do what I do." She laughed and stood beside me.

"Alright, fine, I'll just come out and say it." She took a deep breath. "I want a baby." I turned towards her. She stared back at me intently. "I don't mean adopt either, I mean one _we_ make." She looked anxious. "There…there's a surgery to fix it."

"Is there?" I said dumbly. I shook my head. Whatever I'd expected, this wasn't it. My brain had one of those shutdown moments.

"Yeah." She nodded, slightly more confident. "I asked a doctor about it after the night at the bar. They've developed a surgery since then. Actually, only four years ago." She said.

"That's great." I said absentmindedly. Then my brain came back online. "That- Holy shit." I stared at her. She smiled and flung her arms around me.

"It's not completely effective." She admitted. "If anything, my other problem will get worse. But I'll still be able to have kids." She leaned out and looked at me. "You'll give me some…right?" The cogs in my brain had to work out this one. I didn't let go of her, though.

Okay, I knew she'd already wanted kids. Hell, she really was a good person, and would probably make a good mother. On the other, she did have somewhat of a point; I felt like a asshole to admit it, but I was a bit uneasy about all the things she'd been asking me to adjust too. And, well…I didn't like kids. They were high maintenance, and you put a lot in for pretty much nothing in return. Plus, they ruined all your fun.

"_But she wants it."_ I felt like a hypocrite; I'd told her I'd never say no, yet here I think I might actually say it. She looked at me expectantly, but no answer came to mind. Her face fell with each passing moment. She must've been worried I wouldn't react that well. I couldn't be, but at the same time I just couldn't go right along with it. "I'll have to think about it." She looked disappointed. "I'm sorry, but that's a lot to ask for." I defended.

There was another reason. Jealousness, as much as the idea made me laugh at my self. Life always seemed to be moving forward towards the better for her. I still hadn't gotten anything I got considered worth while.

"_You get to keep her."_ A voice in my head pointed out. I turned and looked at her. She looked even less then the woman I'd known a year ago. She looked like the small, scared girl I'd met in the orphanage. The same one I'd fallen in love with.

…

…

…. _"Whipped." _I almost laughed. I turned and looked at the highway again. "This isn't where you wanted to tell me, is it?" I guessed.

"Yeah." She admitted, slumping back down. "I hoped for somewhere more private and where you were in a good mood. I was only puking because I was nervous I wouldn't get a chance before we got deployed again."

"Well, you told me. And I said I'll think about it. It's a step forward, isn't it?"

"I guess." She shrugged.

"_Not enough for you anyway."_

"I don't intend to do anything till the shooting stops, just know that, ok?"

"I know." I nodded.

"Good." She grabbed my leg and pulled herself up. Her face was still slightly red. I'm sure mine was too. "Not as disastrous as I thought it be." She almost laughed. We both just stared at the wrecked city outline for another minutes. I realized it was probably a good idea to keep the positive momentum rolling.

"Maybe we should go look and see if they have a new helicopter for us?" I suggested. "We may be able to find out how long before- gah!" She tried to tackle me.

"I still feel like I ask too much from you." She admitted. I patted her on the back.

"Well, don't." I said. She straightened up and smiled at me. When we started walking, I realized my earlier thoughts were pretty much true. "You like, I think I actually like it when you act more like a girl." She elbowed me and the side.

"Don't expect it all the time."

"As long as you don't expect me to act soft all the time." I lightly shoved her back. This continued on for several minutes. _"I definitely don't want to lose this."_ But still, kids. The idea killed the good mood. It was a hell of a lot to ask for. Plus, there were other details I'd have to ask about. What if the surgery was dangerous?

A lot to ask. A lot to think about. Then again, I'd faced a lot worse. And besides, this was a good thing, or at least it was suppose to be. I shouldn't be negative about it.

It didn't mean I wasn't worried about it though.

X James X

This city had looked horrible from the air. I was almost thankful when we didn't have to enter it. Instead, we had landed at a make-shift airstrip outside of it's boundaries (but unfortunately close to the dirty river that ran through it) and stayed there the night till the tanks had arrived. Then our odd orders finally took shape.

"That right there. That's beautiful." A tank gunner commented.

"_It's certainly a powerful image." _We'd only been here for an hour, but our purpose was already clear: we were being rearmed. Apparently, according to the active commander of the garrison in this city, we were one of the few units still capable of operating, so we'd be going straight back to the front lines.

The news hadn't been well received, but only vocally expressed that much by the lower enlisted. They were, however, giving us 'compensation' for our new role. During the fighting, equipment had been put out of battle when they're crews were killed. We were exchanging some of our older equipment for that equipment.

Our light tanks were being exchanged for Abrams, our towed artillery for self-propelled Paladin Artillery, and our Humvees for APCs. Though the Captain apparently insisted on keeping some M2 light tanks and Humvees; speed still had it's uses on the battlefield, the 12th Battalion was effectively a heavy tank Battalion now.

Our Air Wing also got a boost. The F-4s were taken away in exchange for F-15s. They even tried to convince the Sky Raider pilots to change. They disagreed, as did I on a personal level; we'd definitely need the air support they were famous for. Plus, I had doubts the pilots had time to train for such a jump. In the end, they gave up the bid and let them retain their planes.

"_It's for the better."_

There were also helicopters. There was a slight warmth in my chest as we walked past the airfield to where they were. It had been so long since I'd seen a proper infantry Chinook, I was practically as awe-stuck as I'd been when I first enlisted and saw one.

It was black for probably night stealth missions. _"Unnecessary now." _I thought regretfully. I recognized the blades are specially modified for increased aerodynamics for better speed and lift. A shiny, lethal M60 Heavy machine gun poked out of a side port near the front, ready to help deliver troops into the middle of a fight. It shown scratches and bullet marks from past operations that had failed to stop it. _"Our perfect weapon."_

"This is perfect. Just what we need to end this war." I said. We had it quickly too. What if Lazuria got a opportunity to launch more raids on the Capital? It couldn't be guaranteed civilians wouldn't be hurt again.

"They won't know what hit them!" Sam grinned.

"Damn straight." Sgt. Anderson nodded.

"You're the Air Assault troops then?" A NRA officer came over. "Gotta tell you, we're glad to get rid of these things; not enough troops to fill them anymore."

"We're glad to have them. Better then what we've been using for the past year." Sgt. Anderson responded. The officer nodded.

"Our supply lines have been under a bit of stress because we don't have that many dedicated transport craft. Those helicopters will definitely help."

Despite the uneven trade off, the NRA seemed content with the exchange. The whole thing seemed routine and logical, at least till later. I'd been sitting at the ground and cleaning my rifle; I'd no doubt need it soon, when Captain Brenner had come over to examine the new Air Wing. The Lieutenant, Will, and a female civilian were following.

They wordlessly observed all of the new vehicles, perhaps planning on ways to use them. I kept a eye on them still while I reassembled my rifle with ease from constant practice. My attention was drawn suddenly to the river.

The Typhoon was sitting there, with the glare of welding tools brightening like fireworks every few seconds. They were apparently installing a rocket delivery system in place of the gun battery it'd lost in the artillery duel with Lazuria. The gunboats sat behind it. It was not a comforting image.

The front line would still be the islands. Though we packed a much more respectable punch on land, the islands were not primarily land combat. Ships and planes ruled there, and we did own a significant quantity or quality of those. We were liable to suffer heavy casualties out there…

"_But I'll still do what I can."_ I had to.

Behind our flotilla, I noticed a much larger, but no less older going by the weathered look, ship sailing down river towards us. The Cruiser docked close to the shore and a party dismounted from it.

Though they'd been leaving, the Captain and his group stopped while the other party approached. The leading man wore a ship Captain's uniform and appeared very old. The hair that cropped from his hair was solid gray. He even walked in a slightly slouched position. Behind him were a few other naval officers, and one Air Force pilot. The pilot walked with a slight limp. They stopped in front of Captain Brenner. The two parties saluted each other.

"I'm Captain Rhodes of the RNS _Silver Fox_." The ship Captain introduced himself. His voice was hoarse, as if he'd used it far too much. A bell started faintly ringing at the back of my mind.

"I'm Captain Brenner, 12th Battalion." The Captain responded. Rhodes nodded.

"Well, Captain, you're my CO now." The sentence was enough make me pause in my cleaning. Will looked started. Captain Brenner similarly. At my best guess, Rhodes was at least thirty years his senior. At the puzzled expressions, Rhodes continued.

"Well Captain, we have our Cruiser, four landers, Airmen Clemens here is a A-10 pilot, with two more behind, a infantry squad, and we have part a artillery battery with us. The NRA has given us orders to be folded into your unit. It's just us now, the rest are in a city just a little west of here."

"Yeah, the NRA doesn't exactly want us anymore." The pilot, Clemens, gave a humorless smile. There was something about it that sent a chill down my spine.

"_Doesn't want them anymore?"_

"What is the artillery battery's composition?" Lieutenant Lin asked.

"Three of those rocket trucks." Rhodes reported in the same scratchy voice. I scratched my head. Three ground attack craft, a anti-air warship, mobile artillery, and men? Without a trade off? The NRA's charity was welcomed, but it still puzzled me.

"The landers and Cruiser's will be very useful." The Lieutenant mused. I reflected it was probably intentional; how else could we move troops into the channel. The Captain still seemed disturbed, but didn't say anything out right.

"I can offer you command of the 12th's naval resources." Brenner addressed Rhodes. Though Captain Davenport had been a calm, orderly, and effective leader, something I'd deducted by watching 12th Battalion ships, seniority, experience, and a bigger ship did mean something. To our surprise, he shook his head.

"I have no interest in the post Captain, but thank you." He bowed his head. They answered more questions from the Lieutenant, but I'd already gotten up; the bell in my head had finally made sense. It might've been a trivial matter, but one I thought I'd report anyway.

Sgt. Anderson and Sgt. Anson were closer to the town, far away enough not to see the river. They were discussing some unknown matter amongst themselves, and I hesitated on the matter of disturbing them. Sgt. Anderson still noticed me.

"What is it Corporal?" He asked. I straightened up and pulled the bandanna up to hide my slightly red face.

"Sir, what you be familiar with a Navy Captain by the name of Rhodes?" Judging by the way leaned back, he did.

"We served from a vessel under his command." Sgt. Anson answered. There was something in his voice. It took a moment I recognized it as _emotion_. The idea surprised me to the point I couldn't figure out what it was. "Why, Corporal?" His voice resumed it's stony tone.

"The NRA has ordered several ships and troops to integrated into the Battalion." I explained. "The Cruiser _Silver Fox _is the crown piece. I recall you mentioning the ship previously." I explained. Sgt. Anson's eyes narrowed. Sgt. Anderson stared in the direction of the river.

"Is that ship in the river?" He demanded.

"Yes sir." I nodded. They both brushed past. As it was in the direction of the airstrip, I followed them. Then Sgt. Anson turned back to face me.

"Coleman, go gather the rest of the unit and assemble at the airstrip." He ordered.

"Yes sir." I answered. They walked off. The Cruiser had had two helicopter pads near the front and back of the ship. That meant we could probably use it as a base of operations like they had during the Great War. The idea was both exciting, yet frightening.

"_I prefer dying in the field, not when a gunboat lands a lucky hit on the Cruiser."_ I set off the find the rest of the unit. They were probably all at the air field, but Sgt. Anson and Anderson clearly wanted a private conversation, and I wasn't going to contest them.

I found a few privates, including Cerutti, observing the new attack helicopters we were being granted. They were narrower then Apaches, a smaller target, but still as heavily armed. A more deadly guardian angel.

"Alright, everyone needs to report at the Chinooks within the next ten minutes." I waved. "Hurry up, it's a important announcement." I continued my search, finding another group lounging around closer to the water already observing the Cruiser. I gave them the same message.

I found Peter and Helen next. They were both sitting on the dead grass and talking. As I was walking up, unnoticed, Peter reached forward and clasped Helen's hands and pulled them up. She leaned back, flustered. I stopped as well, and quickly decided I'd get them later.

It wasn't jealousy; I just realized it wasn't a time to interrupt. Honestly, I didn't blame him; she was pretty and compassionate. But we'd both agreed to store away our civilian emotions and habits as long as we were soldiers; they could get in the way of our duty. There'd be time for romance afterwards, I'd always told myself that. I just hope Peter remembered that.

"_Not my business."_ I decided. What happened between them was their business. What was my business was organizing the unit. I stopped as I noticed a Marine attack helicopter, probably the local garrison's, landing nearby. My mind darted to Chester. Where was he right now? What was wrong with him? I honestly wished I could try to talk to him again…

It took me several moments to realize I was standing around staring into space. I ducked my head and quickly went to find the rest of the unit. Word spread, and I only had to locate two stragglers before everyone was gathered.

I took a accustomed spot near the front of the lined-up Privates. Sgt. Anderson stood in front of us, behind him were Sgt. Anson and Captain Rhodes. The aging sailor looked a bit more lively now. I could only imagine the conversation the three had had.

Sgt. Anderson launched into a vigorous and loud speech about the value of naval power in warfare. It was a bit odd, hearing him praise the value of battleships. Though he quickly brought the conversation around to relevance.

"This beauty right here, one of the finest ships in the whole damn Navy-" Sgt. Anderson motioned to the _Silver Fox_, Rhodes beamed a toothless smile behind him- "is capable of carrying helicopters. We may very well be deploying from this ship in the future. Therefore, I have decided to need for another training exercise." He announced.

The recruits looked both anxious and annoyed. Due to the projections, we hadn't thought necessary to train them in the naval aspect. I could still remember clear as day the joint training period we'd shared with the Navy and Coast Guard.

The training mainly consisted of teaching us how to rescue sailors and aircraft pilots who went down in the water. It had also covered anti-ship operations. It was written somewhere in our doctrine, as well of the Marines, that if needed, we could take part in searching commercial ships or even seizing enemy naval vessels. The idea originated during the Great War, where Lazuria had used some the first helicopters to move troops onto the flight deck of a disabled carrier. Because of this, they had effectively seized the carrier and refurbished for their own navy. Though the Marines mainly over saw maritime infantry roles, the Army had to be adaptable as well. As ridiculous as it sounded, it was quite possible I'd soon be clearing the halls of a battleship somewhere in the ocean.

"I do admit it is getting late and we need some time to organize things, so we'll do them tomorrow." Sgt. Anderson accepted this fact with slight bitterness. "But before, I want to make something perfectly clear to you all: you need this training. Where we're going, you'll either have it, or you'll get killed.

I didn't doubt his words.

XX Author's Note XX

Sarah is a very unstable, irrational, and emotional character in reality, more so then I could probably show even if it was still in her POV. But she is still very much human; they both are. That plot point has been in the works for months; a lot of subtle hints in the previous chapters. It was the second point I did not what to spoil for when the prologue was in her POV. As for why it is not mentioned in Tim's prologue, there is a very good reason, I assure.

I also decided it was time we start to explore the voices of reason and order in James story. What made them how they are? What were they like before? I'm sure everyone whose read has wondered that.

I was going to include another original battle in the next chapter, but I decided to just go ahead to History of Hate; we've been too long without a game chapter. I will do the battle later. For now though, I'm going to refurbish the 1st ten chapters; few people read past them.


	39. History of Hate I

X Valdell X

The command post for the 12th Battalion was little more then a large tent. This tent however, was guarded by both armed infantry and AA Missile vehicles. The occasional NCO went in and out, usually with a report or orders of some sort.

Inside the tent, Captain Brenner was looking over various maps of the islands in the channel where his Battalion would most likely see combat. Despite being only a tank commander, he was fairly well informed on large scale combat maneuvers and the utilization of air and naval forces. He'd picked these up from memoirs left by his father…

What would the late General think of the current war? What would he think of what his son was doing? What would he do? Questions like these often bothered the aging Captain. It was only one of the many problems he dealt with every day, thought one he didn't brood on for that long- issues such as food, ammunition, and fuel primarily took concern in his mind.

There was a knock on one of the poles that held up the tent- a request for permission to enter. "Come in." Brenner called. The Corporal standing guard entered and stiffened to attention.

"Captain Brenner, sir!" The Corporal saluted with his right hand and held out a sheet of paper with his left. "Message for you!" He took it and flipped it open. The note was quickly scrawled. It read:

'_Approximately four hours and twenty three minutes ago, Rubinelle intelligence sources confirmed a large Lazurian naval combat fleet and landing force in the vicinity of Port Greyfield, where the 2__nd__ Fleet is currently being repaired and rearmed. All available forces are hereby ordered to deploy in defense of the port. Should this fail, the Navy's ability to carry out its mission will be jeopardized.' _Below was the coordinates of the base in question.

Captain Brenner's grip tightened. Despite its gains, the 12th Battalion's anti-naval capacity was still extremely inferior. And now this? He read over the paper again. His Battalion could stave off the landing force, but the NRA forces would probably have to do the brunt of the fighting in the sea. Having witnessed the senseless and useless killing of all the NRA troops in the desert, Brenner wondered if those words could be relied on. Better safe then sorry.

"Make a copy and distribute it to all unit leaders." He ordered. "Order Commanders Plate and Davenport to leave with their forces immediately." The Corporal snapped out of his salute and hurried out of the tent. "Lin!" Brenner called. His Lieutenant and tactician appeared seemingly from thin air. He handed her the message which she scanned over quickly.

"A difficult order." She observed.

"But not one entirely impossible." Captain Brenner stated. "I'll go prepare the troops. Lin, I need a strategy we can employ against the possible landing fleet with minimal casualties."

"Yes sir." She nodded, and Brenner left the tent. She looked down at the message again. 'A Naval Combat Fleet'? What was it's composition? How many Battleships? How many Cruisers? What about the landing fleet? These numbers were important, but so far Lin remained unimpressed with the quality of the NRA's intelligence resources. Regardless, she became compiling possible courses of action, focusing primarily on the 12th's artillery capabilities and its gunboat fleet…

X Tim X

I stared down at the blank piece of paper. Sarah was snoring quietly with her head in my lap. Behind the patch of ground I was sitting on was the new attack helicopter we were being issued. A Cobra, actually. As cool as it was, it wasn't on my mind. Sarah's request, however was.

This was probably the most important decision of my life, and I didn't even seem to be taking it that seriously. I'd tried to make a list on reasons why to actually have kids. So far, I had nothing. I had a hell of a lot of reasons against it though.

Again, kids were a losing investment; what the hell was there to get for it? And what did either of us know them? Ok, maybe Sarah had maternal instincts, but how far could that go, really? The biggest reason was the surgery, actually.

Sarah had given me the pamphlet she'd gotten about the surgery. It was informative, if not down right disturbing. Contrary to what she'd been told, Sarah wasn't actually infertile as long as she got her period, and she sure as hell still got that. The surgery wasn't that complex, or so they claimed.

I didn't know half the terms in the damn thing, but I saw a lot that involved cutting. I didn't like hospitals, it was simple as that. They fucked up, and when they did, YOU were fucked for life. Aside from that, the surgery was only four goddamn years old. If you served in the military, you quickly found out anything new took a few years of trial and error before it could be effective. A reason I should check the copter; these models came out two years ago, but I couldn't look away from the paper. Or worry.

"_Too much emotional garbage." _Emotion didn't help. If anything, it was going to get me killed.

Sarah yawned and sat up. That was another problem: how the fuck could I say no? She hadn't asked for a whole lot as long we'd been together, no matter what she thought. I'd feel like a ass, and guilty since she wanted it so much. She rubbed her arms.

"I'm cold." She rubbed her arms. She glanced towards the field of tents beside the tiny airstrip. "Think it's time to go to bed?" She refused to press the issue, acting like everything was normal instead of breathing down my neck. No pressure, at least.

"I guess." I glanced back at the helicopter. "But we'll have to check that tomorrow." Sarah nodded in agreement. We walked around to where the gate for the flimsy fence that surrounded part of the strip was. While I was yawning, Sarah suddenly grabbed my shoulder and dragged me between two of the F-15s.

"What the hell?" Sarah didn't answer me, instead staring back out onto the airstrip. Kim walked by, rubbing her arms for warmth. I saw Sarah's eyes narrow. "What's going on?" I said it before I had the common sense not to. Sarah looked anxious again.

"Kim…found the pamphlet right before we moved out to the desert." Sarah admitted. My head spun. "She tried to talk me out of it." She continued, causing my mind to reroute itself again.

"Really? Kind of weird." I remembered how she'd hugged Sarah when she'd finally admitted what happened to her when she was just a kid.

"Yes." Sarah nodded for a few seconds. "She told me you wouldn't react that well."

"What?!" I said loudly. I didn't care if I was heard. "That fucking-" Sarah put a hand on my chest. Just because I didn't like the idea didn't mean I'd react negatively. "I would never-"

"I already slapped her. We're no longer of speaking terms either." She told me. "I don't care what her or her toy does. If she bothers me again, I know enough embarrassing stuff about her to ruin her." Her tone shocked me, no small feat.

"You guys were close." I stated. Why I suddenly went into defense, I wasn't sure.

"So? I don't need her." The look in her eyes scared me, and told me two new things about this. The first was that it was definitely clouding her judgment: her and Kim were closer for a lot more reasons then Sarah just enjoying being a mother figure. Second, it showed just how high she regarded me. I suppose I should honored that she wanted mine. Still…

"I think you're going a little overboard on this." The way her eyes widened instinctively made me back up.

"Why are you defending her? She insulted both of us!" Sarah fumed. I grabbed her shoulders.

"You threw up worrying I was going to do just that." I reminded her. If anyone else had said this, they probably wouldn't walk away. Oddly, I seemed to be the only person she could interact with without going nuts. _"I still don't get why."_

Sarah turned red, then spun around. "I'm still never talking to her."

"I ain't going to either. I'm just saying you're acting a bit…" I stopped. It was a big deal to her, more then I'd ever know. Saying she was too serious wasn't the right way to go. I didn't need to; she stalked off. I followed.

"Jane knows too." Sarah didn't look back. I found no fault with that; I didn't know the girl that well, but she was in the same boat as Sarah, so I didn't mind.

"Let's just keep it to ourselves. I'm still thinking on it." Sarah didn't respond. I stepped up and grabbed her shoulder, glancing to make sure no one else was around. "How the hell are you okay with this. This could kill you!" That was my biggest worry.

"No one's died yet." She shrugged.

"_Talk about a piss poor argument." _I took a deep breath. "Okay." I took this as a opportunity to voice my other concerns. "Do either of us really know anything about parenting? I sure as hell don't."

"It's instinctive." Sarah said calmly, but she didn't sound too sure. We stepped off into the field of tents. Since they wanted pilots on alert, ours was pretty close. As tired as I was, I just laid down on my own cot and rolled over. There was a grinding noise as Sarah pushed her own cot directly next to mine before laying down.

"I'm sorry." She said after a moment and moved closer to my back. "I don't mean to act like a bitch so much… It's just hard to think about it all."

"Don't apologize." I rolled over and grabbed her. "There's no reason." She sighed contently.

"That's one of the main reasons I want kids." She said.

"Hmm?" I asked, slightly annoyed.

"You don't judge me for my faults. Any kids I have won't either." She explained. "They aren't going to notice or judge me because I'm emotional or have to pee eight times a day." I coughed awkwardly. "They'd only see me as their mother, their caretaker. They'll love me unconditionally."

"_What? I'm not enough?"_ I thought with a bit of jealousy. Then it turned to guilt. _"Jackass." _She been shunned a lot worse then most. "I'll add it to my list then." I realized too late that wasn't the best thing to say. She huffed and rolled over. A list probably made a joke out of a serious issue, but it worked for me. Things having gone to shit, I just shook my head an closed my eyes.

Soon, a lot sooner then I would've liked, someone was yelling at the front of the tent. Sarah made a annoyed noise and sat up.

"Damnit." I yawned, sitting up too. The words became clearer.

"Orders have been given to scramble!"

"So soon?" Sarah yawned before getting up.

"We haven't even checked the helicopter yet." I groaned. We both got up reluctantly.

"New orders came in." The messenger bombarded us as soon as we stepped outside. "There's a large Lazurian force threatening a key port, and we're being dispatched to defend it." She explained. "The ships have already been sent out, and the Air Wing is scheduled to leave within the hour."

"Right…Right." I yawned. "We'll get right too it." I waved her away. So the bastards in blue were striking again? Their mistake- as pissed off as I was, they weren't going to come out unscathed. Between the our morning piss break, the walk to the airstrip, and hiding from Kim again (at this point I told Sarah point blank to reconsider) we only had forty two minutes to do what should've took a few hours. I wasn't a orderly person, but this was my livelihood.

AH-1s were a bit of a odd ball, in my opinion anyway. Before the whole military switched over to Apaches, they used a different, less effective helicopter model- Cobras. The AH-1 'Super Cobra' (who the fuck comes up with these names?) was a upgraded version of that model, somehow more effective then Apaches. The change wasn't actually that difficult. We already knew how to fly it- when we'd joined, the Army was still using Cobras, so we learned to fly them, and the controls were essentially the same with some added features.

Sarah and my concerns were mainly the weapon system and engine respectively. Like I'd said, nothing relatively new worked. The maintenance crews had looked over it carefully and declared it in perfect order. Looking at the engine myself, I had to agree.

"Alright, I guess." I jumped down and closed the panel, noting for the first time the stamp on it: 'IDS SC # 213'. Probably the ID for when it was built. I looked at the last number. "This was the two hundred thirteenth one produced. I give them credit- they can build them good."

"Whoever owned it before took good care of it too." Sarah observed. "They're call sign is still even painted on the side."

"We can point over it later." I said. I walked around the helicopter once. It was smaller, no doubt. But just as deadly. _"Almost like Sarah."_ I smirked at the thought, then stopped. As tense as she was, it was probably safest to keep my distance. "But she should serve us well." Sarah nodded in agreement.

"Load of bullshit if you ask me." Darren came over, Jessie behind him. "We being sent to deter the action of a Navy fleet. What the hell are we suppose to do against ships?" I opened my mouth only to be interrupted.

"Leave it to the professionals, that's what." We all turned at the unfamiliar voice.

"Who the fuck are you?" Jessie said it before I did. The pilot already had on his full uniform, so I couldn't really say what he looked like besides being an average build. He crossed his arms.

"Names Jackson. I'm an A-10 pilot in the 12th Battalion now." He was on our side? "A few of us and the Cruiser are part of your group now." Cruiser? I'd seen a Cruiser in the river, but I thought it'd been the local garrison's. "Anyway, let us deal with the big ships. The best thing you can do is target the gunboats- they're more your size." He walked away, leaving us scratching our heads.

"When'd we get more people?" I asked. The others shrugged.

"I don't know, but he should watch who he tells what to do." Sarah glared at the retreating pilot. Not a psychotic glare, thankfully, but angry. At least she was calming down, but I still wasn't tempted to try my luck.

Stone showed up not much later, asking that we were ready. We all nodded, and he informed us it was time to leave. He warned us to keep our weapons armed at all times.

"Comfy." I sat into the pilot seat and put on my helmet. Sarah climbed into the co-pilot seat and did likewise. In spite of being different, I still felt perfectly in control. I looked out to see the ground crews giving a thumbs up. I nodded and pressed the button to start the engines. The place we were suppose to fly to was already marked on the map.

The helicopter rose into the air, light at a feather despite all the weapons. I liked it already. It didn't make me stupid though. I did a few basic maneuvers, alert at any jerky movements or problems on the display. Nothing sprung up.

"Impressive, ain't she?" I commented. Sarah didn't respond. That made me even more worried: could she still focus? I made sure our end of the radio was completely turned off. "You ok?" I asked. "We should focus."

"I know." She snapped. She shook her head and turned around, frowning underneath the helmet visor.

"Don't worry about it." I waved. She smiled and turned back around. ":Lets just get there; we'll worry after the battle." I said. _"More being uncomfortable."_ I did not look forward to it. Not even the prospect of another chance at the battlefield cheered me up; that particular urge seemed gone for good now for some reason.

X James X

The water rippled from the air the spinning blades produced. I slid down the rope with expertise and onto the metal helicopter deck of the _Silver Fox_. I stepped away and un-slung my rifle before assuming a battle pose; authenticity helped. While the rest of the nervous Privates rippled down onto the gently rocking ship, I looked out over the ships rail.

A group of pilots were gathered around the F-15s, another around the new attack helicopters. In the fields beyond, Abrams and APCs kicked up dirt as they made jerky maneuvers no doubt attributed to their new crews. From what I had heard, the swapping of Humvees for APCs had led to a considerable reorganization of the 12th's Infantry components: all troops were mechanized now; and all trucks would be converted to supply roles.

I turned my full attention instead to the six landers now speeding towards a cleared section of the muddy river shore. As soon as the ramps went down, four tanks, five APCs, and maybe three-hundred screaming Marines disembarked and charged forward, as if it was the real thing instead of a exercise.

"Fearless bastards." I heard a sailor remark. I nodded to myself; they're skills would be invaluable in the channel. In those circumstances, the _Typhoon _and _Silver Fox _would likely be providing fire support, which meant we'd probably work along side them. At the very least, it made our chances look less hopeless.

"One minute. Not bad." Sgt. Anderson ruled once everyone had rappelled down. As instructed before the exercise, I helped walk along the lines and make sure everyone was ok. "Alright, lets do it again!" He ordered.

We repeated the exercise once, twice, and eventually four more times. By then, there was noticeable improvement. Soldiers no longer hesitated at the rope, they no longer stumbled upon touching down on the ship, and our best time was reduced to forty four seconds.

"Damn impressive!" Sgt. Anderson declared. "You all look more like natural Special Forces soldiers everyday!" He turned his head from us to something to our left. We all watched as a sailor came up holding a piece of paper. Sgt. Anderson took it and read it. "Again? Goddamnit." He crumpled it up. We all knew what it had said. "Riley." He radioed Sgt. Anson, who was overseeing a training session on the ground. "Pack up, we're getting deployed again." In spite of seeing it coming, everyone still groaned.

"_How can they still have the will to fight?"_ I shook my head. I didn't know why they were fighting. All I knew was I had to fight back so nothing bad happened to civilians. "What's our objective this time, sir?" I stepped forward. Sgt. Anderson grunted and handed me the crumpled paper. I unfolded it.

'_Approximately four hours and twenty three minutes ago, Rubinelle intelligence sources confirmed a large Lazurian naval combat fleet and landing force in the vicinity of Port Greyfield, where the 2__nd__ Fleet is currently being repaired and rearmed. All available forces are hereby ordered to deploy in defense of the port. Should this fail, the Navy's ability to carry out its mission will be jeopardized.'_

"Damn." I muttered.

"Sounds about right, Corporal." Sgt. Anderson scratched his head and muttered something I couldn't hear. He started yelling at the rest of the unit to prepare to take off. I stared down at the paper again, and remembered my aunt, Victoria, and Chester.

"_We won't fail."_

X Tim , several hours later X

"Port Greyfield, eh?" I looked at the sign. "Dude's compensating for something." I laughed at my own joke. Seriously, the fat ass I'd seen on TV should've worried more about his diet then renaming shit. Besides, it was as much a Air Force Base as it was a port.

The girls had disappeared, rambling something about showers while the rest of us explored the base. Before that, Sarah had quickly and quietly admitted to me she might've been too hard on Kim, and that she might try and make up with her. I told her to go right ahead; even if I hated the blond broad now, she and Sarah did benefit each other. While they did whatever women did, us guys were taking in the sights.

"Beats the ratty old field we use to be stationed at." Darren looked around. Jessie agreed with him. This place was extensive: the port, the air field, the barracks, the PX, the break hall. Hell, there had to be more to it then we could even see.

"Make's sense they'd want to put this place out of commission." Jessie agreed. "This place could hold thousands of troops."

"Yeah, which is why the Lazurians are going to fight tooth and nail to put it out of commission." Dominic decided to be a asshole and spoil the mood. He did have a point though. The mood was made worse when we had a run-in with those new pilots. They were assholes in every sense of the word. Wherever they were from, discipline didn't exist. Things escalated pretty damn quickly.

"C'mon motherfucker!" One of them, some kid probably twenty or so, beat his hands on his chest. This responding to a comment about being stupid. Dominic played right into it, unfortunately, and yanked his own shirt off. Before they started fighting, a MP broke up the fight. We all dispersed on our own after that.

Since Sarah wasn't around, I just went to go look at the ships being repaired. I was admittedly impressed at a ships endurance. If you put a hole in a helicopter, it's going to crash and burn. Ships could have a few holes put in them and still fight. Which raised the question again: how the fuck were we suppose to participate in this battle?

My mind managed to drift while I was watching. Maybe a list really wasn't a serious way to approach the situation. Then I viciously shook my head. I didn't have time to think about that shit now. I sighed and set back towards the barracks we'd been assigned.

I'd never had much an eye for detail, but it was hard to miss the fact a lot of people seemed to be in the halls talking in groups. When I passed another door, I noticed Kim staring at me from in the room. Upon realizing this, she turned red and turned her head. That didn't sit well with me.

Sofia, surprisingly, was the first one to actually say something to me. I didn't talk to her, or want to, but Sarah was probably on good terms with her for some reason or another. They were at least on good enough terms for her to worry.

"Sarah got into a fight with another girl." She informed me. I swore. "She's not in trouble." She added quickly. "But she stormed off. You should probably talk to her." She looked at me expectantly, throwing me off for at least a moment.

"Yeah…thanks for that I guess." Was she looking at me, or was I imagining that. I didn't linger too long. _"Great…really fucking great."_ I'm sure everyone was talking about her in some way. I'd asked her to stay focused. Was that too much to ask for? I thought I'd would've had to search the entire base, but Sarah was actually already in the room we were sharing.

She looked up at me from the bed. "Yeah?" She asked, pulling the cigarette out of her mouth. Upon realizing she was in her underwear, I quickly shut the door.

"What the hell did you do?" I asked, sitting down on the end of the bed. For some reason, she'd discarded her boots and pants and kept her shirt, but I'd ask about that later. "Getting in a fight isn't exactly to best way to preserve your safety." She took a drag and offered it to me. I took a puff without a second thought; it'd been too stressful to not have a cigarette.

"I didn't get into a fight." She snorted. "I just picked her up and threw her in the trash can." I blinked. It wasn't the first time she'd done that, just the first since the orphanage.

"Who and why?" I asked.

"None of your business." She answered. She glared right back at me. "It's my problem and I'll deal with it myself." I sighed in defeat. "You'll probably hear about it later anyway." She shrugged and rolled over. I stared at her, trying to keep my eyes on her face instead of her black underwear.

"_Probably a distraction so I don't ask too many questions."_ Realizing the futility, I just sat down on the other bed and rubbed my head. I was still tired, so a nap did sound fairly enjoyable. For a second time in twenty four hours, Sarah laid down beside me and started with a apology.

"Sorry. I just don't have as easy a time letting go of the past."

"I can understand that." I yawned and sat up. "Is that what this had to do with."

"A certain someone from the orphanage." She confirmed. Of course…

"Someone I know?" I subconsciously balled my hand in a fist.

"Yes. But the issue if between them and me. So don't interfere." She stared at me till I finally said okay. She smiled and laid back down. I did the same. Not exactly the resolution I foresaw, but what the hell? It was the least awkward.

"By the way," I added as a afterthought. "Why aren't you wearing pants? Oof" She unexpectedly rolled over on me, suddenly grinning.

"Better question: why are you still wearing yours?" The mood shift was a bit unsettling, but it was a step in the right direction.

"You've been pretty damn feisty lately." I commented. She shrugged.

"A lots been happening. Some stress relief is welcomed." I finally grinned back and reached for her shirt.

"You can say that again."

X James X

"C'mon! This way, this way!" I waved my arms for emphasis. The M270 MRLS moved slowly forward, its tires squelching in the mud. A raised my palm, and the truck stopped and sunk several inches. The crew climbed down.

We were suppose to be helping the artillery move onto the high ground in case a fight really did happen. At the bottom of the cliff we were on, water lapped on the rocky shores. Behind us, the water opened up into the massive port of the base. The only way in was through the straight below. It was a bad defensive position. This had evidently been recognized, because the land below showed signs of construction. They'd been attempting to widen the entrance, but the workers were probably dead now.

"Sir? Is there anything else we do?" Cerutti came up to me. I looked out towards the sea. The _Silver Fox_ and _Typhoon_ sat there surrounded by gunboats. I looked down at the shore where engineers, both ours and theirs, were trying to make the ground impossible to land on.

I looked around where we were. Others were using their hands to help move along the self-propelled artillery, some looking very bored. Guarding artillery batteries wasn't the most glorious task, but it was important.

"Not really, Private." I responded. The unit was being split into two groups to guard the artillery. The Chinooks would of course be on standby for search and rescue, but that was more a job for the helicopter crews, and medics.

Peter was already on the _Silver Fox_. I ordered Helen to assist him, for reasons both practical and curiosity. I'd paid attention to her expression and noticed the slight flare in her eyes. Ok, maybe Sam was right, but it was still none of my business. There was nothing wrong with them getting to know each other outside the job capacity, as long as it didn't interfere with the job itself.

A Missile truck pulled up beside one of the MRLS'. Sgt. Anson jumped down and came over, surveying the position of our half of the unit. The range was long, but we would be able to fire down at the ground below. But if a plane or ship battery chose to fire at the cliff…

I didn't like the feeling entirely. This wasn't a ground fight. Our well being would depend on the ability of our Air and Naval forces to combat the enemy. And if they drew near, the artillery behind us. 12th Battalion tanks were digging in near the beach to combat any landing forces. Even the NRA was hastily and sloppily repairing some of its damaged ships to help protect the port. We wouldn't be able to make much a impact in this battle, and I _hated_ it.

"Are we ready, Corporal?" Sgt. Anson asked.

"As much as we can hope to be, sir." I responded. I watched as a Cruiser, scrap metal posted haphazardly over what presumably had been a hole in its hull, sailed out into the water towards our ships. I stared out towards the horizon, then back at the port, where the massive outline of the battleships could be seen. If anything got close, those guns could probably help.

"Good. Assign sentry shifts- we need to be able to sight any enemy that attempts to sneak by."

"Yes sir." I nodded. The next hour turned out to be anti-climatic. While I was grateful, it only served to increase everyone's anxiety. Everyone kept their wits about them however, so when the _Silver Fox _finally sent the warning, we were not unprepared.

"We've confirmed a enemy scout submarine is in the area. Say again. Enemy scout has entered the battle zone." The warning went over the radio waves. Behind us, within the city, sirens went off alerting the 12th Battalion and NRA air assets to take off. The _Silver Fox_ and NRA Cruiser set forward.

"Stand your ground!" Sgt. Anson yelled as the backs of the rocket trucks rose. I stood firm, watching the horizon. The Cruisers' rocket systems opened up, firing anti-submarine missiles into the water some distance off. Specs appeared off in the distance.

"_Let them come then- it's their funeral."_

X Tim X

I'd expected the sirens, but it kind of surprises you when you aren't wearing pants. Still, we got dressed and were out to our new helicopter in about a minute.

"She better still work!" I slammed my helmet onto my head. My threat apparently had an effect; the helicopter spun up beautifully. We were in such a rush, the helicopter was already high off the ground by the time we actually got on the radio channel.

"Enemy fleet confirmed! Multiple Cruisers and Fighters in bound. We have bombers and landers on radar approaching! All aircraft take off NOW!" The control tower was going nuts. Down below, two jets took off from the narrow runway, nearly colliding with each other. I grabbed the stick and steered us off the base.

"Just what are we suppose to be doing?" Darren asked the question first.

"Hell if I know." Us- actually, all the attack helicopters on the base- stopped just outside of it so we weren't in the path of the runway. A lot of the fighters were just flying for the sea, a hell of a way to catch flak. "Isn't someone else suppose to give us orders?" I looked down towards the ground. The tanks, artillery, and everything else from the 12th Battalion was defending where they'd possibly land. I didn't know or care- just didn't know- about the other helicopters, but I'd accept my orders from one place only. While a few of the NRA helicopters took off for the battle, we waited till the radio finally crackled to life.

"All attack helicopter assets, flank around the main fleet and attack the lander force. We can not allow enemy forces to get a foot hold."

"Doesn't sound suicidal." Jessie remarked. "I'm up for it!"

"Same." Lance echoed.

"Well hell." I said. "Let's go then!" As we flew over, the artillery batteries below started firing.

XX Author's note XX

The first part is somewhat a further experiment on my part; I'm still wondering if I could write stories based entirely in the POV of the CO.

I didn't go too much into the surgery in the second part, but it's not as if it is done on plotonium- surgery can cure infertility. And besides, it's a world where cloning is possible. Who knows what other rabbit's the medical world has in its hat?

Fair warning: due to the lack of naval-oriented protagonists, the next chapter will largely be 3rd person scenes.


	40. History of Hate II

XX Author's Note XX

This chapter admittedly took a great deal of thinking, hence the long update wait. Due to the factors of the character's specialties, the Battalion lacking naval might, and the fact characters in the other story are more naval oriented, this chapter is just a very brief glimpse of a larger battle that will be fully viewed in Under A Madman's Reign. Though no matter how many times I did it, it felt odd. So I do apologize if this isn't the best chapter.

X Aboard the Destroyer RNS _Typhoon _X

"Two enemy battleships confirmed on radar." The technician warned. "Enemy gunboat squadrons are also present."

"Can we count on any air support?" Captain Davenport asked. During her time commanding the Destroyer for protecting and policing commerce, she'd gained a lot of experience organizing and cooperating with Coast Guard and Navy air assets. Aside from that, she was aware of a friendly carrier in port.

"No word, sir." The communications officer replied. "There are attack craft in the air, but we can't reach them." That meant things would be unorganized. "Our own Air Wing should be in the air soon."

"What about other naval units?" She asked. The _Typhoon_ and the larger _Silver Fox_ were sailing side by side towards the enemy ships. The gunboats had already dispersed with the intention of wrecking as much havoc as they could. The helicopter assigned for S&R had already taken off to assist NRA pilots.

"We have a NRA Cruiser on the comms line. I'll patch you through." Static temporarily filled the line.

"This is the RNS _Trident_ under Captain Huntoon. Who am I speaking to?"

"RNS _Typhoon_, 12th Battalion Navy arm. Captain Davenport. We're trying to coordinate efforts." Captain Davenport responded. There was a barking laugh on the other end.

"Hate to tell you, Captain, but we aren't getting any help from the air. There's a big shot NRA General that took control of all the aircraft. We can't issue orders or request support from our own forces.

"What does our Air Wing have?" Captain Davenport questioned. The radio technician sent the question back to HQ. The answer came back. "We have five fighters and five attack craft taking off now." Captain Davenport radioed the Cruiser Captain. "How is it that NRA assets are off limits? The enemy has far more ships then planes." There was an accusing note in her voice.

"I don't rightly know Captain, it ain't up to me. But if I may speak, we should form up to pack a more solid punch. The fleet is about to send out a battleship to help us." Davenport nodded to herself.

"Captain Rhodes?"

"As long as our own planes take out those battleships," there was a pause, as if he was trying to catch his breath, "we should be fine."

"We'll follow that plan Captain Huntoon." Davenport leaned over the radar technicians shoulder. "Be advised, your three miles south of us. We'll lower our speed but not for long."

"Understood Captain Davenport, we'll catch up." Captain Davenport returned her attention to her bridge. The radar was clean and all weapons systems appeared on line. She was slightly reluctant on the new ARSOC launcher; there hadn't been much time for training, but she had faith in her crew.

The _Trident_ caught up and the three ships set sail towards the enemy in a triangle formation, the _Typhoon_ leading. The first threat appeared twelve miles from the rest of the enemy.

"Enemy gunboats approaching. Locking on missiles!" Similar announcements came from the other ships. All three ships turned and fired at the same time. The five gunboats quickly took evasive maneuvers. Tracking technology proved its competence and all five boats were struck by missiles, three being destroyed on impact and the other two sinking. Relaxed that her ship hadn't blown up upon using the new weapon, Captain Davenport ordered to crew to resume speed while she called upon the Battalion's gunboats.

Only six responded. There had already been casualties. She received no information that the enemy had lost at least a ship in return. The news was discouraging.

"Jacoby." Davenport addressed the gunboat captain. "What's going on?" The radar showed the Captain's gunboat circling enemy ships like an angry wasp.

"Lot of Cruisers out here, Captain Davenport. Those battleships only have skimmers surrounding them. I don't think they counted on our presence."

"That means the battleships will go straight for the base." Captain Huntoon stated, an edge in his voice; the rest of his fleet was trapped there.

"Probably." Jacoby didn't sound worried. "You see the Air Wing, call em, I'm going for the skimmers around the battleship."

"Jacoby!" Captain Davenport said warningly, but the Captain had already shut off his radio. "Damn." She swore. The Battalion couldn't afford to lose its gunboats over suicidal missions. "Clark." She addressed the calmer and more reliable gunboat Captain. "We need to clear the way for the attack planes. Focus on Cruisers, but don't go on any suicide missions."

"Yes Captain." He got off the radio. On the radar, the blip raced towards a large enemy one. The three blips representing the _Typhoon, Silver Fox, _and_ Trident _sped on to the nineteen red blips ahead.

X Aboard the Cruiser RNS _Silver Fox _X

The _Silver Fox_ had one of the most prestigious histories in the Rubinelle Navy. First commissioned during the Great War, she had played a key role in Rubinelle's (then) recently created rapid response forces. She'd even served during the final battle. The ship had suffered damage and nearly scuttled, but was given new life during the rebuilding period.

Despite the savage storms, she'd also survived to fight the current war. Her accomplishments included supporting several naval landings, evacuating troops during both of Lazuria's counter attacks, and winning a one on one duel with one of Lazuria's most notorious battleships. But her victory streak had come to a end recently, the leading factor in her reassignment.

Her aging Captain also had been a factor. Nearing 72, Captain Rhodes could hardly be called a good choice, but the NRA government had imposed a order for all veterans to resume service. At first, he had done well. But after a year of ungodly stress, his judgment was truly starting to suffer.

The only reason he stood tall for this battle was the change of leadership. He liked his new CO. And aside from that, he'd met a few people he'd known during the Great War; he wasn't the only veteran anymore.

Five fighter jets roared ahead. Rhodes had met the leader: a veteran. He already liked the man.

"Captain Stone." Captain Davenport radioed the air commander. "My gunboats are disabling enemy AA ships. We need attack planes to sink those battleships."

"That's a difficult order." Captain Stone admitted. "Two of the attack planes aren't even jet air craft."

"Do what you can, Captain Stone." Rhodes wheezed. "And we'll do what we can."

"It might be pointless, but I'll try and get some air support." Captain Huntoon said. "The Carrier Air Wings may be more inclined to help." The Lazurian attack mainly relied on the element of surprise. But if the NRA and 12th Battalion got enough forces mobilized against their ships, it would come to superior tactics.

Three A-10s raced overhead, then two Sky Raiders. That would be their only attack resource for the time being…

"Sir, sonar just picked up two submarines!" The aging Captain looked down at the screen. There were two submarines, but they contended themselves with keeping their distance from the two Cruisers. Which could mean…

A explosion just several meters off the side sprayed the _Silver Fox _with water.

"The battleships are firing on us!" The technicians warned. All the Captains ordered evasive maneuvers as more massive shells rained down on them. The battleships had sailed away from the rest of the enemy fleet, roughly eleven miles away. At that range, the anti-ship missiles would be too inaccurate for the effort to be worth considering. To evade to inside the battleship's minimal range would be nothing short of a divine miracle.

"Get behind those reefs!" Rhodes yelled in his ancient voice. The ships quickly sailed for the outcrops two miles to the Northeast. Shells followed them the entire way. Though battleships lacked the accuracy of modern weaponry, they still weren't entirely hopeless.

A shell struck the rear end of the _Silver Fox_. The helicopter pads and several guns and AA guns were destroyed along with the engines. The ship was adrift…

"Turn her west!" Rhodes ordered before the ship's momentum stopped. "I don't care about range, fire those damn missiles!" Without any other choice, the crew obeyed. While the _Typhoon_ and _Trident_ ran for cover, the _Silver Fox_ moved for battle. The eight missiles still traveled nearly ten miles to the nearer battleship, during which time two were shot down by AA fire. Three overshot the ship. The other three hit the ship, with two neutralizing one of the batteries.

The effect was immediate in that that firing stopped. The smoke rising seemed to finally sooth Captain Stone's conscious, and he sent in the A-10s on a strafing run, disabling the other gun batteries, but not actually sinking the ship. The two Sky Raiders descended on the ship again, knocking out several of its AA armaments. This encouraged some NRA planes, who dropped even more bombs on the wounded ship, all but sinking it. All the planes then pulled out as the other battleship sailed close to defend its stricken sister.

"Sir! That battleship is zeroing in on us! What do we do?" The technician sounded slightly fearful. Rhodes sighed.

"What else can we do?" He looked at the various screens, which indicated that the ship wasn't at risk for completely sinking, but still dead in the water. "Fire another salvo." He ordered. "If we die today, so be it." The crew didn't question the last sentence, but finished loading the launcher.

"Locking…Fire!" Eight missiles again took off into the air. Having maneuvered behind its sister ship, several of the missiles hit the stricken ship, further damaging it. The rest missed. "Reloading!"

"Enemy Cruisers are approaching. Fire!" The two other ships fired from the safety of the reefs. The other battleship fired again. The shells struck the reefs, blowing the cover to smithereens. The Destroyer and Cruiser set out to get the hell out of the way. "Impact confirmed on enemy Cruisers!" The radar still showed thirteen more, the rest having been silenced by air forces, but the planes didn't that many anti-ship missiles.

"Captain Stone, how's the situation in the air?" Rhodes asked. With his Cruiser dead in the water, air attack was inevitable.

"All enemy attack craft are being held back by fighters." He responded. Rhodes relaxed.

"Alright, send out a distress signal." Rhodes ordered his crew. "Get me a full damage report." The men quickly got to each task. Captain Huntoon radioed that they'd fired at the scout submarines, meaning that hopefully the battleship would stand down.

"Sir!" A officer turned to face him. "The engines are completely destroyed. We lost both of the helicopter pads and the hydraulics for the rear battery. We're bailing water now." The distress call had finally reached the top of the chain.

"_Silver Fox_, state your status." Captain Brenner radioed.

"We're dead in the water, Captain." Rhodes replied. "We're still combat capable, though. We'll stay were we are and continue fighting."

"I'll order the Air Wing to provide over watch." Captain Brenner offered.

"Thank you Captain, and God speed." Rhodes said. He looked at his display. The _Trident _and _Typhoon _were moving to face the enemy Cruisers approaching. The enemy battleship looked ready to fire again, even with the subs gone. "Fire at that battleship!" Rhodes ordered. He looked at the arrows still approaching and shook his head. "Fortune be with us." He begged.

X The skies above the battlefield X

"Woo-hoo!" Fueled by adrenaline and a slight alcoholic buzz, Waylon soared through the massive dogfight, downing three enemy planes in two minutes. No one would ever be able to deny his skill. He could almost take all these chumps by himself!

As Waylon did a barrel role and flew straight for the side of a passing Su-33, the F-15 it was chasing did a complete loop and was brought out seemingly inches from the MiGs tail before tearing it apart with gunfire. The F-15 broke away to engage other enemies. Waylon recognized the emblem on it even if it had faded.

"Crazy old man." He muttered. The whole bunch of them were crazy- one of the chicks literally! He'd seen all their files. They probably thought they were 'doing good' and all that garbage. "Idiots." He muttered. It was shame; some of them would've made good lackeys.

Several bullets hit Waylon's place, causing the CO to curse and roll to avoid getting killed. A MiG roared by outside. "Crazy bitch." He recognized the plane alright- that broad always sought him out in a fight. Well not this time!

Waylon gave chase, pulling in behind the MiG, only for it to dive down towards the water. He held back, and grabbed the radio.

"Hey, what the hell are you people doing down there?" Waylon demanded. The 2nd Fleet had said they were going to be repairing a few ships in time to send out, but the Lazurian Navy seemed un-contested aside from a few bombs already expended by the Carrier Air Wings to destroy the last battleship.

"We didn't have enough time to prepare improvised repairs." The Admiral said with a hint of bitterness. Waylon snorted.

"Yeah, but if they get through, it'll be YOUR problem buddy, not mine." Waylon hung up. "Idiots." He looked around for that damn woman. Instead, he watch two of his fighters get shot down. "Woah!" Waylon pulled away.

He managed to bag another fighter before watching a flaming Sky Raider pull up feebly before exploding in mid-air. Waylon whistled softly and looked down at his radar, realizing that he only had four planes left on his side- the carrier based planes having retreated to rearm. Not cool!

"Waylon don't like this none, no sir!" He said to himself. "Let's get out of here. Retreat!" The fat man wouldn't complain that much; he preferred Waylon alive. Waylon did too.

X Aboard the RNS _Trident _X

"Sir!" One of the technicians warned. "Enemy aircraft approaching in attack vector!"

"What the hell?" Captain Huntoon looked at the display. It also showed the NRA planes were retreating. "What do they think they're doing?!" That left only five fighters on the field, no doubt already busy with the Lazurian fighters still on site. "Get the AA ready. Everyone, hold on!"

The attack planes were standard Lazurian Su-25s. The three of them discharged two missiles a piece and pulled away before getting within range of the Cruiser's main AA. The crew immediately opened up trying to deflect the missiles. Though they shot down five, the final one struck the front bow, rocking the ship. Captain Huntoon swore loudly.

"Damage is non-critical!" One of the officers reported quickly. The _Typhoon_ had managed to down one of the Su-25s as they retreated, by the other two were circling around to attack again.

"Turn portside!" Huntoon ordered. "Order the AA to open fire as soon as the planes enter their line of fire." He held on to the back of a chair as the ship turned hard. No sooner had it that the AA guns opened fire on the planes. They both quickly abandoned their attack and veered out of the collective range of the ships.

"Sir, enemy Cruisers still approaching! Nine miles out, sir!" Captain Huntoon looked down at the radar, and was dismayed at the lack of blue planes and ships.

"Arm missiles!" He ordered. The Cruisers got closer. One got within firing range, before suddenly vanishing off the map. The crew stopped in bewilderment as yet another of the Cruisers vanished from the radar. Then an officer noticed a new blip on the radar.

"Sir! The _Garm_ has entered the battlefield!" The officer barely contained his excitement. Huntoon looked at the blip representing the massive battleship and grinned. The enemy was outgunned now, having never counted on either the 12th's presence or the speediness of repairs.

"Now we got them! Let's chase these bastards off!" The _Trident _turned towards the enemy.

"We'll stay and guard the _Silver Fox_." Captain Davenport volunteered. Huntoon nodded- more glory for him. More Cruisers disappeared from radar. The others appeared to be changing course; they realized any superiority they had was long gone.

"Alright, lets finish this!" Captain Huntoon declared. "Full speed ahead!" A gleam invaded his eye, urged there by memories of past defeats and losses. "And don't leave a single one living."

X Tim X

"Lander sunk!" Sarah called. Another two missiles flew down and destroyed another. "Another one sunk."

"Hell yeah!" I'd said anyone who got in my way wasn't going to be in for a good time. All the guys in those landers were those unfortunate bastards. It was like a damn turkey shoot. The others were having just as good a time, though Lance and Sofia seemed to hesitate on some targets. The NRA copters were just throwing missiles around like no tomorrow.

"Sure as hell beats ground support." One of them said cockily. I had to disagree; there was something better about people kissing your ass for saving theirs.

"_Yeah, much better."_ I nodded to myself. "How we doing?" I asked.

"Most of the landers are already sunk or sinking." Sarah admitted. "Looks like the rest of the battle is drawing to a close too." The radar was showing a lot less blips then it had before. And blips coming right towards us.

"Ah hell." I cursed. Ships and helicopters on the opposite end didn't mix well. "I think we should start getting the hell out of here." Sarah nodded.

"Sounds like a plan." Jessie and Darren apparently hadn't noticed the approaching ships either. I looked down at the instrument panels. We still had quite a bit of fuel, enough to flank around anyway.

"All helicopters, fall back." One of the NRA helicopter pilots said. "This fight in over." We set back for the base. I was in a slightly better mood, but that all vanished when a voice came over the radio.

"Negative on that return kiddies, you need to finish mopping up those saps in their ships." That voice was easily recognizable: Waylon.

"That lousy mother-" I stopped when I realized Sarah was staring at me.

"'_Can you please be more peaceful?'" _My mouth moved for a few moments though I didn't say anything.

"Fine." I said reluctantly after making sure the mic was off. Still, that bastard was in command? Like Sarah had said, he definitely hadn't forgotten us. Who knew what he had been up to since then?

Whether stupidity, fear, or both, I wasn't sure, but the NRA copters immediately set off for the nearest blip on the map.

"I ain't doing that." Jessie said immediately.

"We aren't under his command, so what's the point?" Sofia asked. She was right; we didn't have to follow the order since Waylon wasn't our CO, but that wasn't the issue. The issue was that he was here, and probably wouldn't miss a chance to bug us if we could. If he did, I'd knock him flat. Sarah did too, that's why she'd asked me to be peaceful. Still…

"Man, that isn't pretty." Jessie said. I looked down. A Lazurian Cruiser was sinking beneath the water. Its surviving crew were stranded in lifeboats or hanging onto a large piece of debris. Wait a second…

"That's a surfaced submarine!" It took me a moment to recognize the shape. "Holy shit." I pulled up short and hovered just above the sub. It didn't drive, probably because there were still people clinging onto it. But it was still there, and a easy target. I grinned when the others complained about being out of ammunition. "Sarah?"

"On it." She said. She stopped right before she hit the fire button. Her hand hovered immobile for several moments.

"Sarah?" I asked, confused and worried. She pulled her hand back.

"Forget, lets just get back to base."

"Huh? Sarah, what the hell ar-

"I said back to base!" She snapped at me angrily. I recoiled in surprise. The others went from commenting to dead silence. My face went read.

"Uh, alright." I said reluctantly and pitched the stick forward. The others followed without speaking. If I wasn't holding onto the stick, I would've scratched my head in confusion. What was her problem? _"Did I do something wrong?"_ Had it been the submarine? She'd never been a pacifist… I turned the radio off again and sighed.

"Sarah?"

"Don't talk to me."

"What-"

"Shut up." She snarled.

"Alright, alright." I said hastily. _"Damnit, this wasn't suppose to follow us to the battlefield."_

X 12th Battalion Command Post X

"Affirmative sir, the enemy appears to finally be withdrawing." Captain Davenport said. Brenner finally started to relax. "Casualties?"

"We only took one hit, and we'll need a tow back into port, but the damage is repairable." Captain Rhodes assured. There were no other casualty reports from the other unit commanders. The operation had been a stunning success.

"Sir, message for you." The radioman changed frequencies.

"Captain Brenner?" The 2nd Fleet Commander asked.

"Admiral Ryman." Brenner returned.

"Hell of a job, Captain!" The Admiral exclaimed. "I was watching the whole thing. Brave men and women under your command. Those were some of the finest airmen and sailors I've ever had the pleasure of working with."

"Thank you Admiral." Now Brenner's own mouth curved slightly.

"No, I should thank YOU!" The Admiral insisted. "If it wasn't for you this port would be burning for certain. You have my eternal gratitude Captain. If you ever need anything, just say it. NRA has had a bit of strife recently. In these times, we can't afford to distance ourselves from each other."

"Too right, Admiral." Brenner agreed. "We'll need to stay united if the world is going to return to normal."

"You seem like the man for it, Captain." The Admiral said. "With our victory today, we're one step closer. Soon, we'll be at peace."

XX Author's Note XX

I've finished refurbishing the first few chapters, so I can focus on the new ones. I've decided to cancel the original battle mentioned in the previous chapter, instead I'll put a few components of it into the other original battle. Greyfield Strikes will be next, but only after three chapters or so. But since I worked on them when writers block prevailed, they should be up soon.


	41. Chapter 40

XX Author's Note XX

Three months later, I update. I feel like an ass. But don't worry, it won't happen again. Read the note at the bottom as proof.

X Darrett, Lazuria X

"Heavens." Forsythe murmured softly and slumped back in his chair. The medics leaned forward anxiously, defibrillator and heart medicine in hand. The General's old age and poor health were no secret; indeed, he'd recently been forced to using a walking cane to attend to the daily needs of managing the stressful war.

"General?" Tasha leaned forward in her seat. Any trace of aggressiveness or informality usually disappeared around Forsythe, replaced by worry in these days. Gage nearly got up too. Forsythe waved them all back.

"It's quite alright…nothing I haven't faced before." He sat up. "I am just disappointed the operation failed." Though they hadn't reached hopelessness, the failure to destroy rather then cripple the Rubinelle Navy forces made the situation so much more difficult. The fact they'd actually been able to organize a defense from their disorganized and still-dazed forces also came as a shock.

"We'll still get them anyway!" Tasha brought her fist down on the table. Gage nodded in a less enthusiastic show of confidence.

"We still have sufficient forces to work with." Forsythe sat up. Those forces mainly consisted of tanks- a long time specialty of the Lazurian Military. Though the devastation of the Air Force and Navy severely limited logistics. "We will have to work carefully though. I want no more raids." This comment was directly mainly on Tasha. "For the time being, we should focus on a defensive war."

"The islands directly south have sufficient facilities." Gage commented. Forsythe looked at the islands. They weren't the last stop till the mainland, but they were close. They would've made a perfect staging area to assault the Lazurian mainland. Otherwise, the only way forces could maintain a presence on the island was transport from islands further out.

And Gage was right. Being mainly a commercial port and shipbuilding facility, it could hold a decent naval presence. The smaller vacation resorts and land could hold ground forces and aircraft. Aside from that, Forsythe recognized the land; he'd defended it during the Great War till, Forsythe honorably admitted, the cunning General on the other side managed to take the island and launch the final, bloody assault on Darrett. Forsythe knew he'd have to be wary of a similar tactic this time around.

'That would be a good defensive area. It can the center of our new line." Forsythe nodded. "I want you both to establish a headquarters there for area defenses." Tasha grinned savagely. "I'll assign the remaining bulk of the 3rd Guard's Army under your command, along with Admiral Nasanov's fleet." Forsythe felt confident in those assignments- both units had held victory streaks throughout the war and were both commanded by veteran Commanders of the Great War. Aside from that, they still had plenty of resources to garrison that island and patrol the local waterways.

Forsythe turned to his aide in the corner of the room. "Do we have any air assets that can be deployed as well?" The 3rd Guards Army had its own Air Wing, but it had been severely depleted. Polyakov shifted through his folder. Forsythe sighed; the Air Force had been severely depleted as well.

"We have four fighters, a bomber, and five Sturmoviks without a unit. Shall we form them into a provisional air detachment?" It was a pitiful supplement, but one none the less.

"Hmm…" Forsythe pondered. "That will work." He decided. "Tasha, Gage, go gather up the units in question and deploy. Speed is of the utmost importance here." They both nodded, stood to salute, and then left. Forsythe sat back down.

"Those islands were a real meat grinder during the last war." Polyakov remarked. Forsythe nodded slowly. He didn't relish in those memories.

"You are dismissed, gentlemen." Forsythe nodded to the medics. They seemed reluctant, but accepted the order. Forsythe returned to his paperwork; there were other units besides the naval task force that had attacked the port, and reports on Rubinelle action.

A Rubinelle bomber sortie had been brutally intercepted above the forests to the West. Forsythe was glad for that; the headquarters, base, factory, and research facilities for Lazuria's ballistic missile forces were hidden in the deeply forested land there. The area had just been reactivated, and the missiles had been the first shots of the channel/desert offensive. It would be a while before anymore missiles could be deployed; Rubinelle had destroyed many of the launch silos.

"Not a very useful instillation at the moment." Forsythe commented; resources were still very scarce.

"Funny sir, I recall the politburo saying the same thing when it was first built." Polyakov said. Forsythe nodded; the whole idea was more of a investment.

He picked up another report, only to put it down when there was a knock on the door. Major Polyakov went over to answer it. He cracked the door, said a few words, and turned around.

"Dr. Caulder requests an audience with you, sir." Forsythe paused.

"Very well." He said reluctantly. "Please let him in." Forsythe was beginning to seriously dislike these meetings. Aside from the doctor's rather heavy hand in military affairs, he was proving less reliable in help. In spite of being a manufacturer, he couldn't even name the weapon Rubinelle had detonated in the desert.

"Good day, General." Caulder said in the same low, curious tone as always. He remained standing instead of sitting, which Forsythe found slightly insulting.

"Hello Dr. Caulder." Forsythe returned evenly. "What is the subject of this visit? I am very busy at the moment." Caulder nodded.

"Of course General, the war has taken a very sharp turn recently. I have a new weapon developed that may help you turn the tide back." Forsythe had been consciously keeping his displeasure hidden for the sake of manners, but that was no longer necessary as it disappeared at those words.

In spite of his questionable actions and motives, Caulder's weapons generally were extremely helpful. The skimmer's he had created had helped dominate the seas, and the war tanks had punched through Rubinelle lines everywhere they were deployed. But not all of his products were exactly legal nor moral ( despite its savagery, war still had plenty of morals).

"Are these more of your automated troops, Caulder?" Forsythe questioned. The manufacturer had brought up the issue repeatedly. Forsythe wanted nothing to do with it. He remained worried though, that Caulder would pass over his head and offer the weapons to a lower level commander. Forsythe tried to limit contact between the manufacturer and his subordinate officers, but he could never be sure.

"Not at all General." Caulder assured. "In fact, it was a weapon your government contracted me to build six years ago." To another General, this would most certainly be a good sign. But Forsythe was a career soldier who'd had as many conflict with politics as a battlefield opponent.

Politically-appointed Generals had been very unreliable during the last war, and Forsythe had conflicted with quite a few of them. After the failed invasion of Darret, many politicians had been bellowing for Forsythe to lead a invasion of Rubinelle. Sick of bloodshed, Forsythe had refused, thus sealing his fate of being 'politically unreliable'. Their demands on the battlefield also tended to be immoral, and reckless concerning the lives of Lazurian troops.

Accordingly, Forsythe reacted with caution. "Just what weapon is this, Dr. Caulder?" Caulder pulled a bulky folder out of his lab coat and handed it to Forsythe.

"The Talon Gun, General." Caulder explained eagerly while Forsythe opened the folder. "A chemical laser weapon that freezes troops solid and immediately disables all vehicles and aircraft in range. Forsythe stared at the file contents in alarm.

The weapon is question was more of a structure then anything else. A giant structure, in fact. It reminded Forsythe of a giant umbrella. His eyes drifted to the other pictures and widened in complete shock. It showed troops- automated troops he devotedly hoped- frozen is what might have been blocks on ice. Others showed tanks broken into impossibly neat pieces. One near the bottom showed what had to have been a actually human girl, her skin red and flayed and-

Forsythe slammed the folder shut. He had to repress an urge to tear it into un-readable bits. "I am not interested Dr. Caulder. In fact, I would rather this weapon be destroyed. In the world's current status, this is understandable." Forsythe waited for Caulder to challenge him. But to his surprise, and relief, Caulder nodded.

"I'm disappointed in your refusal, General; Your men will be disappointed." Forsythe knew that was a lie; his men valued his opinions very much. Offended, he said,

"I'd like you to leave Dr. Caulder. Leave and destroy that horrible weapon." Major Polyakov made towards Caulder, but the scientist got up on his own.

"Very well General, I shall destroy that model. Again, I am disappointed you rejected the offer."

"You've given us a great amount of aide over the course of the war, Dr. Caulder." The situation defused, Forsythe tried to make amends. "More then we could ever possibly repay. But what you have been providing will suffice for us; we do not need these new weapons of yours."

"Very well." Caulder repeated; he still didn't sound nearly as disappointed as he suggested. "I bid you farewell, General." He got up and let himself out of the room. Forsythe tapped a finger on his desk for several moments.

"Major." Forsythe addressed Major Polyakov. "Do I have your silence on this issue?" Polyakov hadn't seen the pictures, but he'd overheard of the super weapon. The Major snapped to a salute.

"Always, sir!"

"Thank heavens for that." As an afterthought, Forsythe added, "Please go make sure he does not confer with any of our Generals." Polyakov saluted and left. The Major returned later to report Caulder had left without incident. Several hours later, a video tape arrived showing the destruction and toppling of the weapon by way of detonation charges. That, at least, allowed him to focus more at the job at hand.

But Forsythe did not completely relax. Fortunately, this war would end one day. Unfortunately, it meant he would have to deal with Caulder one day. But Forsythe was confident peace would prevail. The cane leaning against the desk reminded him that he might not see that day. But he had many great officers who would follow him that he had faith in. Peace would prevail, he knew it. But looking at the casualty reports only reminded him that it would be at a price.

X Rubinelle Presidential Palace X

Greyfield was and always had been a hard man to please. He lived in absolutely luxury, and had access to anything that suited him: movies, art, food, and even some ambitious female officers more then willing to sell themselves for a ticket to high positions. And yet Greyfield always craved more.

At the moment, it was weapons and nuclear scientists. A true foil to leaders on both sides, by what had to have been extraordinary coincidence, each nations nuclear stockpiles and production plants had been destroyed in the meteor shower (or so it appeared). There was little hope of rebuilding such sophisticated facilities. This left the only option of conventional warfare.

But that two, faced difficulties. There was considerable damage to manufacturing infrastructure, as well as a lack of skilled workers. As a result, spare parts were difficult to come by, let alone whole machines. But Rubinelle still managed to produce food and other items to keep troops mindlessly happy. The factories here in the Capital were also turning out APCs, weapons, and bullets at a decent pace, so an occupation force to keep people in line was still plausible. But it would do little against Lazurian tanks and battleships. Even now with superior numbers, Greyfield was nervous about the war.

The door to Greyfield's officer creaked. Greyfield jerked his pistol out and pointed it towards the door. After a moment, he decided it had been the wind and lowered his gun, but only slightly. Greyfield was growing increasingly paranoid as time went by. He seemed to see threats everywhere.

His biggest fear was his staff and officers; he anticipated a coup at any moment. Many of the remaining officers were ambitious, always seeking power and influence in the new government. Just how many of them would settle for being below the top? Several officers had been killed over the year, and evidence commonly pointed to other NRA officers. There had been fifteen executions in December alone!

Greyfield even considered Waylon a threat, even though he didn't want the top spot due to the responsibility. Like Greyfield, Waylon handed out promotions to ambitious female officers (more then Greyfield did) and even some male officers willing to lend him their men for his battles. More officers had fallen in behind Waylon this way, a faction almost in itself. It was making Greyfield increasingly nervous.

His troops made him nervous, too. There were still many career soldiers in the military, and more soldiers that had been trained with foolish values such as nobility or mercy. They outnumbered the smaller irregular forces, which Greyfield was growing fond of as a personal army. He still feared some troops would stage a mutiny; it had happened in the last war.

He also feared uprisings from the civilian population, even if they could be put down. There were always protests about the mandatory factory and field shifts and the drafting of many teenagers when they turned sixteen. Those fools simply didn't realize it was all necessary. But so far, nothing had come of their complaints. Greyfield also made a point to keep battles away from civilian centers so they could not steal any abandoned weapons. But he could never be sure…

Greyfield soldiered on none the less, and tackled each bit of paper work with vigor. It was only when he got to the casualty report sent for the most recent battle that had arrived just minutes ago did he stop. Rage crept up onto him as he read it. Oh yes, Lazuria had suffered heavy casualties, but so had his forces. Brenner's Wolves, on the other hand, had suffered few casualties and were given credit for inflicting most of the Lazurian casualties.

The idea was preposterous! The NRA had been in heavy combat for over a year. Brenner's Wolves had only been in a few small scrapes from what intelligence said. How could they possible fight better? How could any officer perform better then the one Greyfield had personally appointed? He shoved the report aside, setting the task of finding a solution for later.

The next report was just as infuriating. Again, the simpletons in intelligence had lost track of where several of Lazuria's field units were deploying. Greyfield slammed his fist on his desk. How was he to make his plans without intelligence?

His paranoia was further agitated by fear, though he refused to acknowledge it. So much progress had been made over the past year, progress that how hung precariously in the balance. His troop reserves were constantly shrinking. People were becoming more and more aware. Officers were beginning to guess more and more what would happen once the fighting ended…

Greyfield's train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Yes?" He barked irritably, his hand drifting towards his sidearm. It turned out to only be his guards.

"Sir." The Marine saluted. Greyfield nodded and he continued. "There has been a incident in the channel. "A Navy submarine found and sunk three aircraft carriers of unknown origin in the western most part of the channel." He pulled out a map with the incident location marked. It showed a dot just south of the westernmost islands of Lazuria, just barely on the map. "The report detailed that the carriers looked unusually advanced, sir." Greyfield stared at the smaller map and then at a globe on his desk.

Egenia and the Federal Republic of Armain were the two only two countries to the west of Lazuria and Rubinelle, Armain being just two-hundred fifteen miles from the incident locations. Both countries had been neutral to the two warring nations, but maintained large militaries mainly to keep their 'unruly neighbors' in check. It was an horrible insult to Rubinelle, one Greyfield intended to avenge after Lazuria. But that was the future.

Rubinelle couldn't very well maintain a two front war. The idea that other countries had also recovered so quickly was unwelcome. And how could they have such an advanced carrier model when Rubinelle had been doing research for so much longer? And would anyone deploy such force to the region. "Has the incident been investigated?" Greyfield demanded.

"They're trying sir, but there aren't many assets in that area. The only records we found was that it was previously owed by a munitions company."

"That isn't enough!" Greyfield declared. "I want intelligence specialists sent out there. I want to know exactly what happened. That's an order!"

"Yes sir!" The Marine saluted, then turned to go send out the order. Greyfield sat back down at his desk and violently hurled the globe across the room. It was another problem on top of many. The world was still moving without him. But it didn't mean much. He'd still accomplish his goals. One day soon…

X James X

"Be thorough and be cautious!" I warned to soldiers as they loaded the prisoners into the truck. The battle was over, but our job was far from; pilots and sailors from both sides had been carried by the tide to the shore. It was our job to arrest the Lazurian military personnel, help our own allies, and dispose of the dead bodies.

Several of the 12th Battalion's trucks had come down for the first and second task. Aside from the drivers, we were the only armed troops there to handle the situation. As more and more Lazurians washed up and we were outnumbered, things got slightly more tense.

Most of the prisoners were lower level enlisted, but there were a few officers- pilots and ship Captains. The later were being separated from their subordinates to prevent any planning. "This all we've found?" I asked. There were two ship Captains, three pilots, and two co-pilots. All seven had an officer insignia of some sort on shoulders.

"Yes sir." Cerutti said. "This one- he roughly shoved the head of one of the ship Captains. "-was the CO of one of those battleships."

"The _Vasily_." The white-haired Captain spoke hollowly. "The ship I watched be built and commanded for thirty years. Sunk." He spoke as if it were a crime against humanity. I felt a bit of sorrow for him, but only a little; this was a war after all.

"And you?" I addressed the other Captain. She refused to say anything, so I moved to the pilots. One of them appeared to be a fighter pilot, though he refused to say. The other two's uniforms was shredded so I could barely tell. One of them identified himself as a MiG-29 pilot.

"Skilled pilots you had up there." He commented, curious rather then hostile. "Haven't had that much fun in a while."

"The flight lead is a Great War veteran and an ace." I said. The pilot's 'ah' was the last thing I heard from any of them. No amount of coaxing could get any of the others to speak. Over the next several minutes, the faces continued to wash ashore. Cerutti and Karst brought over two Army officers half an hour later, saying their were tank regiment commanders. I could see as much, along with their obvious displeasure at having been sunk in their landers.

"Of all the things you bastards have pulled out of your asses, I didn't think it'd be attack helicopters."

"Pick your fights better next time." I said unsympathetically. _"And your wars, too." _No more officers washed ashore after that. More men did, and the Battalion sent over some APCs, their infantry and some M2s in case of any unrest.

Sgt. Anson came over as we loaded the officers into a separate truck for transport. "Not many." He observed. "Several of the ship Captain's likely went down with their vessels." I'd heard of that old Naval tradition.

"_Bravery and honor." _Even if some of their leaders were aggressive, I could admit their soldiers were fine men to a degree.

"We should be able to get intelligence from these ones just fine." I said. Sgt. Anson nodded.

"I'll take command of the officers myself, go guard one of the other trucks."

"Yes sir!" I nodded. "Karst, find Nies and go guard a truck. Cerutti, with me." Cerutti and me went to go join another part of the prisoner convoy. We found a truck without a guard and took over the role ourselves. Despite this, there were still several vehicles without a proper guard.

"We must have at least four hundred people here." Cerutti commented.

"Sounds about right, Private." I looked at the Lazurian sailors restrained and sitting quietly, defeated. "Hope the base has enough housing for them." Several of them raised their heads and glared at me. I ignored them.

After several final checks and counts, the convoy finally started moving. The truck's tires spun in the sand for a moment before gaining traction and lurching forward. The whole convoy got to moving from the beach to the slightly muddy ground.

"So what now?" Cerutti asked me.

"We process these bastards-" this earned me another glare "- and then we head back to the Capital till we're deployed again."

"But where does it end?" The Private sounded frustrated.

"At this rate, soon. We'll bring peace soon en-

"Excuse me?" One of the Lazurian soldiers interrupted me in mocking disbelief. "What the fuck gives _you _the moral high ground?" His companions shouted agreement. Cerutti nervously shifted his rifle so he could aim it easier. My right hand drifted towards my handgun, but did not un-latch the holster.

"The fact we're defending something." I thought back to Chester. "And saving a generation." Something warm and wet hit me in the face. Swearing, I wiped the spit off my face and glared at the prisoner.

"Fucker." He snarled. It looked like he was going to spit at me again, but Cerutti stopped him with a threatening rifle gesture. "Keep thinking that, see if it keeps you out of hell." I shrugged off the soldier's bitter remarks. He'd lost; as much was expected.

"This war will be over soon." I repeated. _"And then people can live in peace again."_ The sailor scoffed.

"This war will end when everyone is dead." He hissed.

"You're deranged." I shook my head. I'd never thought of Lazurians as crazy. Aggressive, yes. Crazy? No. After so long on the field, they must've become unhinged. Anyone who stayed often did. I wasn't going to become that. Neither would Chester, or anyone in my squad. No, scratch that. No one in the unit.

We had to stop at a security checkpoint before we could proceed into the base. An NRA sentry climbed up to look at the prisoners. He didn't appear as young as most of them had a habit of being.

"None of em." He muttered and shook his head. I assumed he was referring to officers.

"We got a few of them; they're in a separate truck." The soldier grinned.

"Good man!" He gave me a slap on the shoulder and climbed down. It took me a full minute to realize the hostile glares being sent my way. They're loyalty to the commanders was admirable, but it was what it was.

The trucks rolled into the base. Out the back, I couldn't see many people; they were probably still in the field. It was a good victory, if not one-sided. I made a note to congratulate our pilots later.

The trucks pulled outside the base's administration building. Heavily armed NRA troops surrounded the trucks. "We'll be taking charge of the prisoners now." A Lieutenant explained to me. I nodded; I hadn't expected us to keep them ourselves. It was their base, not ours.

Cerutti and me climbed down while the soldiers roughly removed the prisoners from the truck. I noticed the Lazurian officers being hauled away with bags over their head. I turned away when Sgt. Anderson's booming voice began summoning the entire unit to somewhere further down the convoy.

"Sir." Nies noticed me first. My squad had already re-formed amongst the larger crowd. Helen was absent; likely still transporting back casualties. Some of the Battalion logistic drivers, now task-less, gathered to listen in.

"Everyone ok?" I addressed my squad. They all nodded. Sgt. Anderson was standing near the center of the group. His head moved around, taking in a effective head count before he started speaking.

"I'd like to thank all of you for keeping a calm head during the latest battle." He began. "We all accomplished a great thing today." He said, referring to the prisoners. "So great in fact, the base commander wants to congratulate us personally." He stopped and allowed everyone to take that in. "I'd just like to say… I'm damn proud of what this unit has become."

I stood as straight as I could. A General wanting to speak to us personally? It was an honor. Scared, untrained rabble a year ago, now this… "He'll be talking to us by the arms depot." Sgt. Anson took over. "I expect proper behavior." I noticed several of our own troops start brushing the dirt off their uniforms and kicking the mud off their boots. I quickly brushed all the dirt I could off my chevrons.

But once all of us, truck crews included, got there, we were slightly surprised. It was a General, certainly, a two-star general even. But he looked far too young. If I had to put money on it, I'd say he was almost Sgt. Anson's age, barely. His face was still fairly round and firm, and even standing on a ammo box, he might've been an inch or two shorter then me. None of his staff looked to be more then thirty, either.

"_They're leading the NRA?"_ I could see the skepticism and doubt etched on everyone's faces. The General appeared oblivious to it all. Instead, he immediately launched into a speech without even a introduction. I found myself shaking my head as it went on. The General spoke in a booming voice, praising things such as Rubinelle blood and the military, and making derogatory, extremely in some cases, remarks about Lazuria.

"_Ridiculous."_ I'd seen such propaganda growing up, but I did eventually realize it was baseless. If they wanted people to join, they should've advertised to satisfaction and heroism of protecting people. I turned my head and started when I realized how the others, the youngest most prominently, seemed to be focused on every word. Just because the propaganda was bullshit didn't mean it wasn't effective. I'd have to talk to Sgt. Anson about it later; even his legendary impassiveness seemed to be cracking as the General rambled on.

A crowd had formed as well; pilots, maintenance workers, a lot of people. They too were young, and seemed drawn in by the speech. If I'd ever stood before a General for accomplishment, I'd been proud. Now? I wanted to punch the guy.

"What you men proved today-" He went on. I felt slightly sick as he molded our actions and accomplishments to match his twisted view. I noticed Sam, whose xenophobia was no secret, even seemed disgusted by the comparison. I was amazed the General hadn't noticed the menacing stance Sgt. Anderson was standing at just a few feet away.

"What is he talking about?" I turned and saw Helen had come up.

"A…'victory speech'." I wasn't sure what the proper term was for this idiocy we'd been forced to hear. "Where's Peter?"

"Medic station." She explained. "A lot of people are hurt." She explained. I nodded; I already knew it hadn't been a costless battle. The General changed points, speaking of the future.

"What we have now, is an opportunity. An opportunity to set the world right!" I jumped when some of the NRA personnel cheered. "With our wisdom and superior blood-" I tuned out from his ramblings and stepped out of the crowd. A couple of other people had as well. I'd heard some delusional speeches before, but that had been just beyond the range of normal fanaticism.

The speech ended about a minute later and everyone dispersed. I overheard snatches of conversation. Some positive, some scolding, others indifferent. The most disturbing fact remained the cheering- it had almost sounded fanatical.

"_That isn't the right motivation."_ Superior blood? It was ridiculous! My own squad seemed just as confused, if not disgusted. It was reassuring. Still…a little values exercise couldn't hurt the unit, could it?

As I went searching for Sgt. Anson, I overheard several NRA personnel discussing a party- a victory celebration. That itself wasn't unusual, but I worried none the less. They still had a lot of rebuilding to do. And their role in the battle had been modest, but not as good as ours.

Now that I thought about it, the NRA's performance hadn't been entirely too exceptional all along: they'd recruited us because they were having difficulties, we had to actually save the search party, and they'd let Lazurian launch that massive offensive. And that was just what I knew.

I stopped where I was and frowned. We were fighting so we'd have a chance to rebuild. And someone would have to oversee that reconstruction- the military. But if this fanaticism was the quality of the leadership…then what did that mean for the future?

X Tim X

Sarah had been acting different- I wasn't going to say weird just yet - the past year, but that was understandable. My agitation ebbed slightly by the time I shut down the helicopter and climbed out. Only slightly though; I still was determined to get a word in.

This plan evaporated when Sarah grabbed my arm and started dragging me away towards the barracks. "I know, I know." She cut me off. "I'm sorry." That surprised me, but I still recovered quickly.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked. "These past few days-"

"I know!" She moved faster, pulling me with her. The others noticed the spectacle, but kept their distance. It was embarrassing. Just how many people had overheard her outburst? What did they think was going on?

Sarah stopped just short of the barracks. She let go for once- I noticed the red print she'd left on my arm - and looked off towards the airfield. I could immediately determine why. "Why are you waiting for her?" I asked.

"Because." Sarah said impatiently. "I'd like the opinions of the two people I'm closest to." That explanation was a mixture of flattering, worry, and slight confusion. What did she want an opinion on? Just how close were the two girls anyway? I'd never much paid any in depth attention.

"Our opinions?" I asked. I noticed Kim was walking over, turning her head left and right looking. Sarah waved and grabbed her attention. "Opinions on what? What's wrong now?"

"Nothing." She said it after a moment of obvious stalling. "Just an idea I had." Kim finally came into ear shot, so I didn't call her out.

`"Is something wrong?" Kim looked and sounded worried. She made a movement to put a hand on Sarah's shoulder, but she grabbed it and started dragging both of us into the barracks. Kim looked at me in confusion.

'Just go with it.' I mouthed. She still looked confused, but didn't ask. I thought about doing exactly that myself, but decided against it; she'd tell me soon enough.

She finally stopped outside our room and turned around to face us. Her eyes darted back and forth between us. "Stay here." She directed that comment at me and grabbed Kim's arm and dragged her in the room. I was a bit surprised to hear the door lock. Shrugging, I leaned against the wall opposite the door.

If she wanted our opinions, she must've been considering something. _"At least she's trying to do something."_ That couldn't be easy. I still wondered what was going though her head. After twenty five years, that usually wouldn't be necessary. Then again, I didn't entirely know her till last year. Hell, did I even know her now? That was not a pleasant thought.

A minute later, I looked up as the door knob turned and saw Kim stepping out of the room. She gave a small jerk of her head towards it. I waved my hand at her irritably. She kept walking, so I assumed Sarah had told her to leave.

I stepped into the room and closed the door. Sarah and sitting on one of the cots, looking at her feet. I leaned against the wall and drummed my fingers on my arm for a second. "So?" I asked.

"Do you think I need therapy?" She asked, not looking up.

"Huh?" I said as my mind skipped for a moment.

"Therapy." She looked up. "Shrinks, recalling your worst memories, that bullshit." She waved an arm for emphasis.

"And where the hell did this come from?" I scratched my head. "You're just full of ideas now." Her mouth curved upwards.

"Actually, doctors have been recommending it to me for years. I just never thought I needed it." She sighed. "I'm not so sure now." Something else she hid for years. It annoyed me slightly.

"So what changed your mind?" I asked.

"These outbursts." She explained. "And how nervous I was to ask about the…" Her face went red. "I think I have trust issues." She diverted quickly.

"Trust issues?" I raised an eyebrow. "What gave you that idea?"

"You." She stood up. "For some reason, these idiotic fears keep getting into my mind you'll leave or something. That's part of why I didn't tell you what happened to me; I still wonder if I should've at all. And its part of the reason I was nervous about asking for a baby."

"It may have been out of the blue in a bad place, but it wasn't that bad."

"I know." She sounded frustrated. "But no matter what, they always exist. I even wonder if Kim is going to turn against me one of these days." She shook her head. "I know its bullshit- you've done nothing even remotely close to hurting me, and Kim follows me completely. But I just can't get rid of them."

"You seemed to ignore them just fine when we were in the Air Force together." I pointed out. She shook her head.

"No, they were always there. You just never noticed. Like-" Her face went red. "I…may have slightly lied about how Kim and me became friends." She admitted and looked down.

"Lied about what?" I raised an eyebrow.

"She actually didn't shadow me around the entire base at first- I did to her though. I…didn't exactly like seeing another girl on base." I put two and two together from that perfectly fine. I expected to be mad, and instead started laughing.

"Yeah." She smiled. "Stupid on my part. Like you would be gone just because of some new girl with tits and a tight cunt." I stopped laughing.

"Was that an initial assessment?" Sarah could get nasty with insults, but I hadn't imagined it with Kim. Sarah nodded, definitely more embarrassed.

"See how ridiculous it is? That's why I'm wondering if I need therapy. I let the smallest things explode into something bigger that throws me off."

"What was the problem in the helicopter?" I asked.

"I'm just…a bit worried about being in the battlefield now. I made the mistake of thinking but to the several times we've crashed over the past year and it makes me nervous. I didn't drink anything before the fight because I was worried I'd…" She scratched her head. "Look, the point is: do you think I need therapy?"

I rubbed the back of my head and thought. On one hand, I didn't want to offend her. But on the other, I couldn't deny she was being ridiculous. These episodes were likely to stay, the way the world was now. Even if I'd never leave, the few she'd already had was straining things. Any more couldn't be good. I choose my words with care.

"I don't think you're crazy- as far as I'm concerned, you have a right to worry about people." I began. _"Especially when your 'authority figure and role model literally fucks you over." _I pushed the angry thought away. "But I'm going to admit these episodes are getting annoying. And since your talking about normal life and all that-" I specifically left out the kid part- "you can't very damn well be paranoid about everyone. A few sessions couldn't hurt."

"Kim said the same thing." Sarah nodded. "I was considering doing it if you guys disagreed anyway." I sighed and sat down next to her. "Thank you." She leaned against me.

"Hell, maybe I should see one." I thought. "Get my own shit straightened out." Sarah looked at me in complete surprise. "I didn't say I was happy with myself. I actually think I'm an asshole for not going along more with all your ideas. This war is going to end- I need to accept that I'm going to be a civilian."

Sarah blinked once and then kissed me. "We've both really made progress, haven't we?"

"If you can call it that." The Air Force days still seemed not too long ago, where the weekly schedule was live fire exercises and simulations, the weekends were bar nights, and Sarah and me would occasionally sneak off together for a little fun in a bathroom stall or supply closet. That still seemed better to me then the current situation. But that was gone forever, so there wasn't much point wishing otherwise. Progress forward was the only way forward.

"Eh, worlds changing." I admitted. "Everyone is along for the ride, even us."

XX Author's Note XX

I've been suffering from writers block on this chapter, and instead started working on the Greyfield Strikes chapters, so they're nearly done. What encouraged me to finally finish this was a interview I read from March where an Intelligence Systems manager (company that makes Advance Wars) hinted at a new game being developed for the 3DS. I wonder if it could be a sequel to days of ruin?


	42. Chapter 41

X Tim X

"Man, it's tight in here." I tried to angle the flashlight.

"Funny, I remember you saying that same thing our first time in bed together." Sarah called. I grinned.

"Heh." I returned to what I had been trying to do and managed to finally turn the flashlight's beam further into the Super Cobra's engine. I whistled softly. "Man, this thing probably only has half as many parts as the Apache, and she's a damn sight faster."

"Well, I'm glad your pleased with your tools." I leaned back outside the engine compartment and watched Sarah pace around the rocket pod and missiles racks. "This thing doesn't have as much ordinance. That means we'll spend more time rearming then fighting." I grunted and stood up to look for myself. She was right- it only carried half as many missiles.

"Maybe they'll make an upgrade kit? They better be working on one, anyway." Speed and agility were important, but what was the point is you couldn't blow shit up? _"What's the point of anything fancy in a weapon?" _You didn't decorate an electric chair with flowers, did you? Sarah shook her head.

"I'd rather they let us keep the Apache." She crossed her arms.

"Too late for that." I shrugged.

"Just like a lot of things." She sighed. I worried for a moment things would turn emotional, but she just went back to checking the weapons, and I returned to my inspection of the engines. I sighed as the return to normalcy held.

_"Life as it should be." _No emotional interference, no difficult choices, just business.

Damn that sounded pathetic.

It was like there was no joy in my job anymore. Hell, the only thing I found actually appealing to do in life was spend time with Sarah, and I couldn't do that every minute of my whole life. I was almost starting to look foward to that therapist idea- I was getting more bummed out by the day.

Finally pleased that everything was in place and looked strong and sturdy, I climbed back out and closed the hatch. Sarah had disappeared somewhere. I deducted too possibly choices and took the first one, walking outside the hanger that stored the helicopters to the ones next door where the fighters were. The B-52s were resting on the runway and the Sky Raiders beside it.

As I'd thought, Kim and Sarah were both sitting on a crate talking amongst themselves, laughing and giggling or occasionally whispering something into each other's ear. It was still odd to see Sarah acting like that, but, for some reason, I had to admit she looked...cute.

_"Haven't used a word that soft much."_ Then again, the closest Sarah had been to soft was before she was eight or so; she was always the rough type growing up. And now she was giggling like a school girl and wearing dresses again. The funny thing was, I acutally liked both versions.

Both of them quickly hushed up once I got within hearing range. "I was wondering when you'd come find me." Sarah stretched her arms above her head. Kim gave me a small wave.

"There are only two places you can disappear to." I shrugged. "I just got lucky guessing." I sat down. "What the hell were you two laughing about?" Kim's face went red and she turned away. Sarah stared back evenly.

"Dating advice. There's your answer, now shoo." She tried to push me away.

"Dating advice?" I snorted and tried to angle my head to see where the Sky Raiders were parked.

"Yes. They actually have a date once everyone gets back to the Capital." Sarah informed me. Behind her, Kim nearly looked like a firetruck. "And I'm helping her prepare."

"Pfft. I could've swore I was out of high school." Sarah lightly shoved me. "I'm surrounded by kids."

"If age determined how a person acted, you and me would be somewhere very different by now." Sarah said. Her defense fell on deaf ears.

"I still don't know why you bother with them." I rolled my eyes.

"Because." Sarah stood up in front of me and leaned into my face. "They remind me of us." A grin spread across her face while I digested that.

"...Bullshit." I muttered. "You've complete lost your mind."

"Have I?" She grinned even more impishly. "The shy little boy who likes the pretty blond girl? Hmm."

"Bullshit." I repeated. When I realized how red my face was becoming, I quickly stood up and started walking for outside.

"He gave her a flower not too long after they met. Just like how you use to dig some out on the playground after you met me." She followed me.

"You're insane." I quickened my pace.

"He doesn't like talking to people, just like you." She moved just as fast as me, trying not to break down laughing.

"And just like you did on my birthday, he-" I took off in a dead run. Behind me, Sarah stopped and was hunched over laughing. Muttering, I kept my head down to hide my face as I quickly jogged back towards the baracks.

"Crazy..." I repeated. I know she'd been teasing, but that had still been embarassing as hell! _"I was a little kid then. That stuff isn't meant to be taken seriously." _I stopped to let the blood drain from my face. Sure, I'd admitted one time or another that Sarah and Kim were similar. But me and Eddie? That little wimp? I knew Sarah had to be messing with me; there was absolutely no way there'd been any resemblence.

Standing up straight, I started walking back towards the barracks. All our stuff was packed and the helicopter had been checked out, so all we had to do now was wait for the signal to leave. I could probably fit in an hour long nap or so. The thought was a good one till I was near the barracks.

"Timothy!" Someone called. I stopped and jerked my head around, fists clenched. Who the hell? "Damn, ain't fate something?" The sailor jogging over had a lot of scars that made his face look more pink then black. He looked familiar...then it clicked.

"You're...Ricky?" I guessed. He grinned a grin missing several teeth.

"Yeah. I was wondering if you'd remember. Hell, I knew you were here, I just didn't expect to see you." I grunted and started walking. He followed.

"World's a funny place." I muttered.

"I hear that." He nodded. "There are only maybe 200,000 people here now. There was nearly a billion people in this county before the meteors. And somehow most of the people I know survive. Damn crazy."

"You have no idea." I made idle conversation. I'd rather not talk at all. What was there to talk about?

"I just noticed something-" Ricky looked around. "Where's Sarah?" I felt agitated at the question.

"Talking with a girlfriend shes had for a few years." I said.

"Well, ain't that something!" Ricky leaned back in surprise. "I didn't think you two could ever survive seperated. You two were always together; She always kept you close. Hell, I remember she use to drag you into the bathroom with her!" He made a face somewhere between sympathy and amused. "I figured she'd cling like that the rest of her life."

"We are close." I said vaugely, ignoring an urge to punch him in the face. "But yeah, she's trying to play matchmaker with these two kids we got in the Air Wing." Ricky shook his head.

"Makes me feel old, goddamnit." He waved around him. "Seems like there are nothing but kids left to recruit now adays. I kind of get it, yeah: kids are foot soldiers all around the world, with computers, planes practically fly themselve, and anything else electronic is user friendly. But off duty they act like fuckng-" He groped for a phrase, actually infuriated.

"Damn, calm down!" I took a step sideways to put some distance between.

"Yeah, right, right." He scratched the back of his head. "I'm goddamn jealous of you. You got a loyal girl, you got a good job, and you actually got older, well trained soldiers fightin with you. Us? We ain't got shit!" I looked at him skeptcially.

"Booze, brothels, and anything you can eat don't sound bad." I commented.

"Yeah, its nice." He nodded. "But there's no discipline anymore! This ain't an military, its a bunch of fucknuts with guns and planes and ships."

"Discipline?" I scoffed. "From _you?"_

"Hey!" He sounded offended. "I'm straight now, man. I acually got a house, I got a job, and I got a family. And I can't figure out why I was stupid fucking stupid to do it earlier." The conversation quickly went into the area of uncomfortable I thought only Sarah could do.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry." I grumbled. Now it was his turn to be surprised.

"'Sorry'? Damn, you really have changed."

"Whatever." I grunted and stopped. I'd just realized I'd overwalked the barracks by maybe half a mile. "I got stuff to do, so unless you got something important..."

"Nah, its good...Good talking wit ya." He shook his head and kept walking. "Let's talk again in the Capital!" He called. "Hussan, me, and some other guys from the orphanage are meeting at the same bar as last time. Bring your girl and stop by!"

"Yeah, yeah." I grumbled again. I turned and started walking back to the barracks we'd been assigned, actually mulling over his offer. Why the hell did they want to socialize. I'd probably punched most of them at least once! _"Is everyone from the orphange strange?"_ I shook my head. I wasn't strange, and neither was Sarah. She was just... traumatized?

_"Ah, hell, I'll let her decide on the offer. She does the thinking anyway." _I made my way up to the room and flopped down on my cot. That mystery forgotten and the problem out of my hands, I began to doze prety quickly. I was almost asleep when the door opened loudly. "Damnit." I muttered.

"Oh don't complain. You sleep enough as it is." Sarah poked me in the head as she walked over.

"Not enough." I muttered and closed my eyes again. "So hows the whole date arranging thing going?" I asked.

"It's good." Sarah replied. "Why do you care?" She asked. I imagined she looked mischevious while asking too.

"Cause I want to know how much of your time I'm going to have to see you waste." I told her. "I still think you're insane." She yanked back the blanket and laid down on me before dropping it back.

"Am I?" She asked again. I opened my eyes to see her resting her head in her palm, her elbow digging into my chest.

"Yeah, you are." I tapped her head. "There's a screw lose up there somewhere."

"Whatever." She was confident in her judgement. She laid her head down on my chest and closed her eyes. "I'll prove it once we get back to the Capital."

"I'll believe it when I see it." I wrapped an arm around her and fell asleep.

X James X

"One, two, three!" With a grunt, we both lifted an end of the heavy crate and carried it into the interior of the CH-47.

"Can't believe I'd ever say I was happy to have to reload these things." Our supply officer, Sgt. Dalton, pushed the ammo crate back while we picked up another one. "Still, if anything matters in the world, its supplies."

"We'll definitely need it." I grunted. Nies nodded agreement and sighed when we got the crate up. Our job was over here, and we would surely be moving out soon. And so, we were going ahead and loading up most of the supplies for the trip and fueling every vehicle. From our end, it hadn't been very eventful. But it wasn't a bloodless battle- we'd lost three gunboats and a had our only cruiser damaged. Anyone could see that that was bad.

"How much longer you think we'll be here?" Nies grunted as we picked up another box.

"Not long." I predicted. _"We don't have time to sit around." _If what I'd heard was true, the war could really be over soon. We just had to jump on the chance. We loaded a few more crates before a soldier, NRA definitely, came up to us.

"Corporal...Coleman?" He looked down at a sheet of paper and then back up between me and Nies.

"Yes?" I took my hand off the crate I'd been about to lift up.

"You're brother needs your at the medic station. He said its urgent." His tone didn't carry any implication of urgency. None the less, I immediately straightened up.

"Nies, find Karst and finish loading these boxes." I ordered. Bidding a curt thanks to the messenger, I set out at a slight jog towards the medic station, unsure of the severity of the situation. _"He couldn't be hurt." _I knew that much. But then what was the issue? As soon as I stepped into the medic station, my senses immediately picked up signs of injuries: burnt flesh, coughs, groaning, and the faint metallic smell of blood. I quickly realized why he called me: they must've been understaffed.

"Peter?" I called as I walked through the station. My original thought eroded when I noticed other medical personnel relaxing, chatting, or even eating. But the smell grew stronger as I walked to the back of the station. Some NRA troops were laying in the vacant beds, sporting severe injuries themselves. There were medics checking each of them, but they'd yet to see treatment.

"Peter? I repeated.

"Back here!" He called from around a corner. It was his voice, but it sounded strained. Trouble? I quickly jogged around to where he was and nearly stopped in shock. At least two dozen people, all Lazurian military by their uniform, were crowded against the back wall of the station. All of them sporting a variety of injuries ranging from burns to missing limbs.

Peter and Helen were going to the most wounded first, but at the same time leaving others with lesser but still dangerous injuries to themselves. I quickly pulled out my own medical kit and joined them.

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded. "There are empty beds right behind us!" I stared behind me. Some of the medical personnel lounging around could definitely see us, but didn't seem to care. _"What the hell is your problem?"_ I almost shouted it at them.

"I don't know!" Peter definitely sounded agitated. "I came here earlier and these people were just laying here and no one will say a damn thing! Just help!" In contrast, Helene seemed feverish, almost scared as she went from casualty to casualty.

I nodded and turned to the nearest untreated casualty- a young sailor who was breathin heavily and had his arm across his chest. A thin trickle of blood came from the corner of his mouth. "Injuries?" I asked.

"I got flung into the bulkhead when my ship got hit." He coughed several drops of blood. I nodded. Internal bleeding caused by physical trauma. I took the neccesary pills from my kit and ordered him to swallow. He did so without the least hesitation. "...Thank you..." He muttered. I moved on to the next casualty.

The pilot's uniform was wet, implying he'd been shot down over water. His breathing was ragged too. This face was stained with blood that had run down from a wide gash on his forhead. I quickly pulled out some bandages and applied them with disinfectant before wrapping it around the wound. Fortunately, the cold water seemed to have stopped the bleeding mostly. I felt around his uniform for any wet patches that could have been blood. I found one on his right leg and patched it up as well.

From there, I moved on to an Army soldier missing several fingers, an pilot whose face had been severely burned, and several sailors who can also suffered bruises and internal injuries from when their ships were hit. One poor bastard had had a piece of shrapnal impail his crotch. He wound suffer from that injury for the rest of his life.

We made slow progress. There was little we could do for broken bones, especially since some of them were too dazed to tell us. But the amount of groaning and rapid breathing eventually slowed as most of the injuries were treated.

"I'm going to find more bandages." I stood up. Peter and Helen kept working and didn't answer me. I didn't notice that the medical personnel from earlier were gone. I found the door to the supply room and pushed in open only to stop in dismay: the shelves were empty.

There were definitely no bandages, and hardly any pill bottles, none of which were full. Gaping again for a moment, I quickly went looking for the next medic I could find. "The goddamn storeroom's empty!" He looked back at me evenly. He had to be somewhere around 18.

"Yeah, we noticed." He shrugged. "Had to use it all when the 2nd Fleet showed up." It was a valid explanation, but didn't satisfy me.

"You didn't have any reserve? Didn't anyone order more stock?" I asked. _"That's basic procedure!" _He shook his head.

"Most the medical supplies goes to the front." He shrugged. "People are more likely to catch the clap then get shot here. That stuff was gathering dust before we used it anyway." Clearly deciding I was wasting his time, he turned and left.

"There are wounded back there!" I growled.

"So?" He didn't bother stopping. "It doesn't matter." He left before I could say something else. I stood there, anger, confusion, and worry all mixing in my mind. It didn't matter? What the hell did that mean? I might have been referring the the wounded NRA troops.

I stopped stupidly. No one was getting treated because no one had bothered to stock up on more supplies. _"What idiot is in charge here?"_

Growling, I stormed outside and jogged to where the 12th Battalion was. We might have had some to spare. It didn't tell me long to find a medical officer. I quickly explained the issue.

"What?!" The Sergeant, big but clearly devoted to his role, didn't believe me at first.

"Yeah, there are maybe forty casualties, most of them Lazurian, but some Rubinelle." My explaniation made him realize I wasn't joking. "Come over here!" He ordered, and led me to a truck where several boxes bearing a red cross were being loaded. "Grab one end, I'll grab the other." We both lifted up the box and started for the medical station. "What kind of injuries are there?" He asked.

"Most of them are sailors or pilots, so burn and shrapnal damage mostly." I explained the cases I'd treated.

"And they're not doing a damn thing?"

"Not that I saw. Most of them looked like kids, so-"

"Damn amatures."

"-they might be too inexperianced. One of them said not many people get injured here."

"That isn't an excuse!" The Sergeant clearly believed himself, so I didn't argue. The medic station was even more deserted once we got there. Only a few clerks and nurses still lounged around. The smell was still there though. "Goddamn." The medic muttered.

We passed a few beds where some NRA casualties were resting. Most of them still missing treatment. Two nurses were talking adamently just a few feet away, seemingly oblivous.

"Out of the way!" The Sergeant yelled. Both girls jumped and quickly darted away. The Sergeant and me set the box on one of the empty beds and opened it. "Take what you need and go help the prisoners and I'll help these casualties."

"Yes, sir." I nodded. I grabbed some bandages and other supplies and quickly hurried back. "Here." I deposited it by Helen and Peter. "Another medic came to help the NRA casualties."

"I heard." Peter sounded relieved. "These prisoners were worse off though, so we treated them first. Sgt. Daniels is a good medic. He'll take care of them." With the new supplies, we were able to completely treat most of the wounds rather then use stop gag measures.

I turned my attention to a Lazurian Naval Infantry soldier whose entire uniform was singed and burned through in several places. She looked young, probably 17 or so; I didn't see that very often in Lazurian forces. "Injuries?"I asked.

"I was by the lander's engine compartment when it caught fire." She looked at me. I almost recoiled. Her face wasn't injured, it was her features. They were like the pilots we'd caught back in the desert, only more prominent. Her eyes seemed to stare right through me.

"Right." I recovered myself. The burns likely covered her entire body. "Do you want a female medic to check you out?" I asked. It was manners as well as required.

"No." Without the slightest bit of concern for the people around her, she pushed herself up and pushed her pants down. "Just get my legs- that was the worst of it."

"Uh huh." I saw where the flesh was either charred black or red raw and quickly set about disinfecting and bandaging the wounds.

"Special Forces, huh?" She questioned. I nodded. "Impressive."

"Mhm." I nodded.

"Which campaigns were you in?" She asked.

"Just the desert offensive." I answered. "We just joined the war a few weeks ago."

"Oh?" She said in interest. "Which unit?"

"One of them." I said after a moment. None of the other casualties had been in a speaking mood. Though it was pretty clear she was just trying to scourage intel. It was best I keep my mouth shut.

"Oh." She knew a aversion when she heard one. "I'm Lada." She went on.

"...James." I decided to return the courtesy after a minute. I looked again at her skin tone and eyes. "You're one of those people from Northern Lazurian, aren't you?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Funny, few people remember what we are anymore."

"We thought you were wiped out in the last war." I informed her. I was nearly finished treating all the burn marks. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed another Lazurian Naval Infantryman glaring at me.

"Almost." She shook her head sadly. "There are maybe only 2,000 of us left." War was liable to put dents in populations like that.

"How unfortunate." I offered my condolenses. She shrugged.

"Our people have been disappearing for many years. It was inevitable." Then she said something in the same, gutteral tongue the pilots back in the desert had coversed in. Peter and Helen both looked back for a moment.

"That's the language you teach your Special Forces." I observed.

"Yes." She nodded. "We call it the 'old language', because it hasn't changed from the tribes who used to live in Northern Lazuria. It is a very simple language without many techinical terms. You're own forces tried to learn it but could never find a source."

"Hmm." I answered thoughtfully. That would've fit with what Sgt. Anderson had said back in the desert. I finished treating the last of the burns. "There." I nodded. "They shouldn't get infected now." She looked down at the bandages and smiled. She said something else in the old language. "Thank you." She said in english. Then before I moved, she leaned foward and kissed me.

I jumped back and nosily banged into a empty cart. Peter and Helen looked up in alarm. The girl, Lada, started laughing. Bewildered, I stood back up.

"You okay?" Peter asked, looking back in forth. Neither of them had caught what had happened. I was almost glad. A few of the Lazurians were looking at Lada in disgust.

"Yeah." I muttered. "Yeah." I shook my head vigorously. _"Just trying to screw with me." _It wasn't the first time gender had been used to disorient an enemy. I quickly dismissed the incident and got back to treating the casualties. The whole time, I noted Lada watching me out of the corner of my eye.

After a while, our efforts must of come to the attention of the NRA, because a Captain came into the medic station five minutes later angrily demanding what the hell was going on. The medic that came with me, Sgt. Daniels, intercepted him and did not hesitate to start arguing over the poor state of the medical command here.

Almost surprisingly, the Captain quickly folded under the pressure of the NCO and left to go order more supplies. _"I feel sorry for whoever he commands."_ I shook my head. Incompetant officers were an unfortunate part of the Army that had still survived.

A minute after the Captain left, another NRA officer came in- an MP Captain. "They fit to move?" He grunted after giving the casualties one look over.

"No sir." Peter responded flatly. "Most of them will need more rest." The Captain scratched his chin.

"Then just bring the ones that can move to the MP station." He grunted. He looked at the line. "Them." He pointed to an Army soldier and a pilot that had some big rank insignias. "Bring them to the MP station immediately." He walked out. As he did, I thought I heard Peter mutter something.

"Should I go ahead and take them?" Something seemed off about that Captain, but an officer was an officer and an order a order. I'd treated the Navy Lieuteant- nothing but a few deep gashes. The Army soldiers didn't look that bad either.

"Sure." Peter responded. "Be careful with the soldier though- his leg is wounded."

"Right." I nodded and waved for the two prisoners to stand up. "Let's go then."

X Port Greyfield HQ X

"What a day." The Commander of Port Greyfield, as well as all units stationed there, loosened his tie and flopped down behind his desk. Though the room remained clean if not bland, with its dusty furniture and plain grey curtains on the window, the desk was a clutter of unit rosters, classified files, battle plans, and letters to and from other top NRA commanders. The mess didn't seem to bother him.

Once known as Lieutenant Commander Zackary Gallet, he had been stuck behind a desk for many years without any hope for promotion or field command despite his eagerness for aggressive action to protect Rubinelle interests. He'd grown bitter watching other officers move up, and he had not hid these feelings either.

But when the meteors fell, Greyfield siezed power, and immediately began recruiting officers to his side. Many were like Gallet- stuck in a non-combat role they were too talented for. The Admiral's wisdom in choosing officers was just what Rubinelle needed. And it was definitely what Gallet had needed. Now he enjoyed a major command, several medals, and all the perks that came with it all. And after today, especially with all the prisoners, he was sure to receive more. Life was good...

"To victory, and to myself!" He raised a bottle of bourbon he'd pulled from his desk and took a strong drink. It hit him like an artillery shell; profits no longer a factor, products were no longer being made with focus on quality rather then profibility. Grinning and already a bit dizzy, he set the bottle down.

He _did _have 'some' paperwork he had to take care of, but... Shrugging, he got another drink of the bourbon. Yawning, he pulled his officer's cover down other his eyes and rested his feet on his desk. He deserved a break anyway. After a few moments, he was snoring away.

His senses no longer functioning, he missed the door to his officer opening in closing. Nor did he notice the intruder making her way towards him. Covered head in toe in black combat gear, the figure's only defining trait was perhaps her blue hair tied back in a ponytail. Makoto Kamata stared distastefully at the unconscious officer as she made her way around the desk.

The Lazurian Special ops agent probed through the papers on the desk with interest, memorizing details but not disturbing them. All the while, she kept a pistol, fitted with a silencer, on the sleeping CO. Her lips curved upwards at some of the files. These would be valuable, both for Lazuria and her own purse. She certainly needed the latter.

Across the room the door knob began to turn. The agent quickly and silently ducked behind the desk as the Commander's adjacent- a young faced if not impatient Major, walked into the room with a folder underarm. He muttered when he saw the state his superior was in. Once he was standing right in front of the desk, Makoto sneaked around it till she was right behind the new arrival.

"Sir." He shook the sleeping officer. "Sir, we have have sensitive paperwork from the Admiral that must be completed." He shook the officer again. Grunting, Gallet sat up and blinked confusedly at his aide. "Sir, this paperwork-

Suddenly, a blow hit the Major stragetically on his neck. Gallet suddly snapped up and reached for his sidearm. The assistant crumpled as his vision went dark. But he stayed conscious long enough to see his own sidearm somehow leave his holster.

Before Gallet could fire at the strange woman, she fired. Blood splattered across the back wall. Hit dead center between the eyes, Gallet's head snapped back and he, like his Major, crumpled. But unlike the underofficer, he wouldn't get back up.

As intended, the gunshot drew attention; through the walls, people started yelling. Not even blinking, the Lazurian agent knelt down and quickly made some 'adjustments' to the scene. Pleased with her handiwork, she grabbed the folder the Major had been carrying and slipped out the door and down the hallway well and disappeared before the General's well armed but inept security team even made it to the floor.

Not long after, several soldiers burst into the room to hideous sight. The General, and bits of him, were slumped against the back wall of his office. His Major was sitting dazed and confused on the floor, his service pistol in hand. At first, they tried to help him. But upon recovering the shell casing and realizing his gun was one bullet empty, they quickly realized the truth.

The Major was dragged out of the room, screaming the whole way.

X James X

"Come on." I remained stern with the prisoners, but didn't push them all that hard. The soldier's leg would definitely need more time to heal. They kept walking at a decent pace. I got some odd looks, but only some. Most of the soldiers who passed seemed uninterested or were talking loudly amongst themselves, unaware of anything else.

The Army soldier hissed in pain and I automatically slowed down. The medic's words rang in my head again. _"How does it not matter?" _It didn't make any sense in my mind.

The MP station was located near the center of the base, across the road from the communication center and grouped with the Headquarters and all the other important buildings on base. The communication center was the only building with any activity; runners carrying messages entered and exited every several seconds. The front of the MP station just had a pair of Humvees sitting in front of it, but nothing else.

As the three of us reached the door, the entrenance to the H.Q. opened and the sound of screaming filled the relatively quiet air. I tensed and reached for my sidearm. The two prisoners stepped back behind me. Several Marines exited the building, dragging behind them a screaming man. It took me a moment to realize it was one of the officers, a Major, I'd seen at the speech.

"What the hell?" I wondered out loud. While they dragged him across the street, he managed to struggle free of their grasp. Without mercy or hesitation, one of the Marines stomped on the Major's back and pinned him to the ground. I heard one of the prisoners snicker. While the unfortunate Major squirmed and shrieked, another high ranking officer- a Full Army Colonel- stalked up angrily. He started yelling at the Marines, but I couldn't hear what he was saying.

I didn't hear the Marine's reply either, but whatever it was turned the Colonel's attitude around completely. He turned and kicked the poor Major right in the face, yelled something at him, and started kicking him repeatedly. The two Lazurian soldiers burst into laughter while I stared, slightly horrified.

Officers, the glue and brains of the Army, assaulting each other? Incompetance was one thing, but inner violence? The implications of the idea were even more horrible then seeing it. I had half a mind to intervene, only stopping because I had to watch the prisoners and I had no idea how they would react to my intrusion.

So I just stood there in shock as the Colonel apparently grew bored with his action, and snapped something at the Marines. One of them grabbed the legs of the now bloody, bruised, and unconscious Major and started dragging him off. A blood trail followed them as they started walking towards the MP station.

Towards me.

I stepped back and kept a perfectly straight face as they dragged the body past me into the station. For a second, I'd thought they hadn't noticed me when the Colonel stopped just inside the doorway and turned around to face me. "Those prisoners?" He asked. He sounded tired.

"Yes sir." It took some effort to keep my voice straight. "There's a lot in the medic station, they're being treated and sent down here." I explained. The Colonel looked at me for a few moments. _"Since when are officers this indecisive?" _At last, he shook his head.

"Forget about it." He said. "We got enough of the bastards here." I stood stupidly for a moment. Then what was I supposed to do with them? The Colonel seemed to read my thoughts. "You're 12th Battalion son?" He asked.

"Yes sir." I nodded.

"You're heading back to the Capital?"

"Yes sir." I repeated.

"Then just take all the prisoners with you." He turned as if about to leave.

"Sir, I can't complete a order like that." I said quickly. He stopped and turned to face me again.

"Right." He said tiredly as if just remembering. "Right... Pass on a message to Captain Brenner to come see me then, and I'll arrange it." Then he did turn and leave after that vauge, half-hearted statement.

"Sir?" I called again, confusion in my voice. _"Soldiers aren't suppose to be this sloppy!"_

"Hmm?" He paused with his hand on the door. I hesitated.

"If there a problem? What happened?" The Colonel looked at his shoes for a minute then back on me.

"Nothing that we haven't dealt with before, and nothing you need to worry about, son." He said. "Just get those prisoners somewhere they'll be safer." Without waiting to be bothered by another question. I stared after him a moment longer, then at the prisoners. They looked happy, excited; like christmas had come early.

_"Where they'll be...safer?" _What the hell did that mean? And what the hell was the problem with the NRA?

XX A/N XX

Getting to work on my stories is painfully difficult. But thank heavens for preplanning and a 60 words a minute typing speed!

The character Makoto was an OC submitted and owned by user: **CO Raven**, and used with permission.

On that note, I'd like to apologize to some of my readers who have submitted OCs that haven't had much screen time, or none at all. I have scenes for them, but they don't fit into the story till the later chapters. But do not worry, for I have not forgotten them.


	43. Chapter 42

XX A/N XX

Yes, I am still working on Under a Madman's Reign, work is just a little slow. Most of the plot is original, and I had word documents nearly 30k words long that helped me keep track of units and battles and other plot points in the continuity I constructed for it. Unfortunately, they were lost when my computer got fried, and I can only remember a blurry half of all of them. But their reconstruction is going along fine and I hope to have the next chapter up within a week or two.

X James X

"Don't rush it. Wait till you have a clear shot!" I called. Some of the soldiers shifted before firing at the next target, all focusing with the intense energy of youth. It was both encouraging, and worrying. But whatever my personal thoughts, they were improving remarkably, and they'd already been well trained before. Karst managed to shoot the next four targets that appeared in his station in the head.

Everyone else proved fairly accurate as well, always hitting targets in the upper body region. Helen's shots seemed to drift to the side often though. Definitely more of a healer then a fighter. But it wasn't as if she'd be fighting alone. And we were at this facility for a reason.

The Jackson Training Complex, named after one of Rubinelle's former Secretaries of the Army, had been the largest military training complex in the world. Equipped with Air Strips, classrooms, shooting ranges, obstacle courses, and even technical schools alongside the river, it was capable of training men and women for service in any job of any branch of the military. Before the meteors, it had trained nearly 13% of Rubinelle's massive military. Now a days, even though a good part of it was in ruins, it trained every soldier in the NRA.

_"They're lucky."_ Even if they were young, this place could teach them everything they needed to know to survive. _"Hopefully." _It was fortunate for us too- we could finally train our group in a more professional manner. It wasn't that they were incompetent- far from it- but there are some training exercises you just can't improvise for. And so, while we waited for the rest of the 12th to catch up, we would train. Any other concern had left my mind for the time being.

A loud bell signaled to end of the exercise. The training group stood up and everyone switched their weapons back to safe. "Not bad." I called, stepping forward. "Not bad, but we can always get better." Mild criticism was a part of the military, so they all took it in stride. I looked over the eleven soldiers, including my squad, and thought about what to do next. Marksmanship was important, but so were other things.

"I saw a anti-armor course a few hallways back." I said "We'll head there next. Fall in and lets go." Everyone got into an orderly group and we left. It wasn't the normal authority of a Corporal, but times were odd. Peter and Sam had their own groups training somewhere in the facility and Sgt. Anderson had a larger group of his own. Sgt. Anson was taking cure of some business concerning supplies.

An Army Sergeant looked up from his desk when we entered. An AT-4, hopefully a dummy, was sitting there. He straightened up. "Here for training?" He asked. I nodded.

"We've had some encounters with enemy armored vehicles, but not much. Even then, most of the experience is only against Rubinelle armor in open areas." I thought he'd ask for an explanation, but he just nodded me on. "If we're going to be fighting against Lazuria, we'll need to know how to fight their tanks." He nodded again. It was common knowledge Lazuria specialized in armored warfare.

"I got you." He nodded and faced the group. "You all take a seat and shut up!" His voice rose and everyone, me included, scrambled into one of the desks. "Now." He went on loudly as he started pacing. "You are here, because you don't know shit about anything." That was good, he acted like a Sergeant I would've learned from. "You are here so that, when confronted by an armored attack vehicle, you won't piss yourselves." He stopped his pacing and pivoted towards us. "When you leave this class, you will be more then capable of facing anything on treads that tries to take you down."

I'd heard a very similar opening when I began my own anti-armor training. To see several tons of metal armed with a machine gun and a cannon descend on you could be very frightening. But once you learned all of a tanks short comings, it no longer appeared threatening, just like other aspects in war.

As he went on, covering different armored vehicles, their weak spots, and the science of ambushing, I nodded along; it was exactly the same as I'd heard when I joined. But eventually I paid attention with the same rapt focus when he started several lessons I hadn't heard before- lessons that could only be learned from actual combat.

Then he approached a lesson I hadn't even thought of- how to counter a War Tank. "This," he said gravely as attached a giant poster to the wall, "is a War Tank." He stepped back and let up see the poster. It was of a War Tank, Lazurian no doubt, rolling past the burnt out remains of five Abrams. "The most powerful battlefield weapon ever devised." He said in the same grave tone.

_"Ever devised?" _I didn't completely understand his tone- we'd taken out several of them.

"There is one thing, and one thing only that you can do against this thing." The instructor put up another poster and stepped back. "Run." He repeated the large, bolded word on the poster. Everyone stared at the word with obvious shock. It surprised me too.

_"Defeatism from an instructor? How far down hill have things gone?"_

"But we've destroyed a couple of those." I wasn't sure who the brave Private was who said that, but the instructor snapped his head up.

"When and how?" He looked from face to face trying to track them down.

"About a year ago." We both found the Private who had said it. He was as young and nondescript from the rest, but I still remembered his name- Norman, Jake Norman I was pretty sure. "One was tipped over by a bomber. Our Battalion operates it now." The instructors eyes darted over to me- the one responsible for the group.

"Your unit operates a War Tank?" He demanded suspiciously. The tone of his question didn't surprise me much. I'd already heard in the desert that Lazuria was supposively the only operators.

"Yes sir." I nodded. "We captured it from rouge Rubinelle forces just a little over a year ago." He shook his head.

"Those tanks were not developed here." He stated.

"Probably not, sir, but they still had them." When the day had started, I hadn't thought I'd be getting into an arguement. The instructor bit his lip.

"Who's your commanding officer?" He asked finally.

"Captain Brenner, leader of the 12th Battalion." He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote that down.

"Now then." He said when he put it away. "How did you take out these tanks." Now I was the teacher?

"Mass firepower, basically." I recounted that still terrifying battle on the hill. "We lost a lot of vehicles there. But otherwise, we don't know any other way." The instructor nodded, more to himself then us.

"Right." He said quietly before doing a complete turn around. "Back to the lesson then." Like any good instructor, he lept back into the lesson with the same vigor as before. It concluded ten minutes later, after several questions reviewing what we'd learned, and we were dismissed. As we left, I noticed the instructor leave the room in a hurry, with the piece of paper he'd written on held tightly in his hand.

_"Maybe I should've referred him to Sgt. Anson..."_ As only a Corporal, I probably shouldn't have spoken so much about the Battalion. I thought about going to find Sgt. Anderson, but decided against it. Whatever it was, it wasn't an immediate concern of mine. Helping train these people, though was.

For the next several hours, we trained in urban warfare, learned how to avoid air power, and how to navigate; an especially important skill when there was no longer stars or the sun to direct you and when maps were apparently a rarity. The anti-armor instructor's questions were hardly recalled by the end of the day when we were nearly done training. Our last activity of that day was more time at a shooting range; accuracy and weapon proficiency was the most important quality of a ground soldier.

Nies managed to hit all of his stationary targets in the head and pumped his fist in the air. I'd seen the same thing in High School. It was in the same way a boy did when he got a date to a High School dance. He probably would've been doing exactly that is he wasn't in a uniform.

I shook my head violently to get the thought out. "Trouble, Coleman?" Sgt. Anderson materialized behind me.

"No sir." I said quickly, and stopped. Sgt. Anderson looked at me and then at the troops practicing.

"Some advice, Corporal." He told me. "You can't stop them if it's what they want to do. All you can do is be a good enough leader to get them home while they're still kids." He left the range, perhaps to go critique the other groups. His words floated around in my head.

_"Good enough leader? Get them home while they're still kids?"_ He was right: It looked strange to me how younger and younger people were in uniform now a days, but how could I stop them when they made the choice? But what did the second part mean? They were all teenagers, and at this rate, the war would be over before any of them were twenty. I pondered on it only till the exercise ended and found no answer.

Our training ended after that and we all left back for the barracks where we were staying. Oddly, Sgt. Anson was no where to be found, but it didn't worry me. "What a day." I said as I pulled off my boots.

"Good way to spend one." Peter agreed. He'd already climbed onto his bunk. "They even had a good medical class there."

"Really? I didn't see it." I frowned. It would've been better if everyone had more then the basic first aid training; two medics couldn't manage a unit as big as ours.

"I'll show you where it is tomorrow." Peter offered. "How'd your group do?"

"Good." I answered. "They were all focused."

"Yeah. Our own training platoon wasn't nearly as willing." Peter recalled. I nodded agreement. "Something weird happened when we went to a anti-tank class though." He admitted. The memory came back to me and I sat up and looked at him.

"Was it about War Tanks?" I asked. Peter nodded.

"Yeah. Someone tried to tell him we had one. He called us a liar and kicked us out." Peter shrugged. "Fortunately we'd already learned everything new."

"Kicked you out?" That sounded way to extreme. "Our instructor just asked who our CO was and went on with the lesson. I should probably tell Sgt. Anson about it when he gets back."

"It probably isn't anything bad." Peter said thoughtfully. "Probably just wants to confirm our story. What better way to develop tactics then study the equipment the enemy uses?" That hadn't occurred to me.

"Good point." I shrugged. "Probably nothing." I yawned and stretched. "Better get some rest." I said. "Got more training to do tomorrow."

"Not tomorrow, we don't." We looked up to see Sgt. Anderson had come over. "NRA says its booked solid for something, so tomorrows a free day. Go into the city and catch a movie or something." He suggested.

"Booked solid?" I sat up. "Half those rooms have dust in them." Sgt. Anderson shrugged.

"Hell if I know, Corporal. But we aren't in any position to argue. So tomorrows an official off day. Train on your own if you want, but there isn't any mandatory work tomorrow." He declared that with finality before heading off. Peter and me exchanged glances. For the NRA to deny us use of the training facility was odd. We would still spend the day training, but a free day did mean one thing...

"What time you'll think they'll be home tomorrow?" Peter asked.

"Not sure; schedules don't exist anymore for all I know." I answered. "You think Chester will be there?"

"Maybe." Peter nodded thoughtfully. "If he is, I want to have a look at him. If what you said is right, he might be suffering from an overload of stress."

"I guess we'll have to see tomorrow."

"Tomorrow then." He agreed.

X Tim X

The entire Air Wing, as well as anything it had carried, had gotten back to the Capital early. To everyone else, that meant two days to relax till the rest of the Battalion returned. To me, that meant two days of uncomfortable. Now that we were back, I was sure Sarah was either going to drag me directly to a therapist, or get to work immediately on setting up those two twerps on a date, no doubt trying to drag me into it. Now that we were actually back, both of those sounded like very bad ways to spend a day.

_"Which would you prefer to lose? Your right big toe, or your left big toe?"_ That's how it seemed to me anyway. Sarah and all the others seemed relieved and glad to finally be back. They were all happy and here I was moping. Oddly, I wasn't that pissed about it. All I really wanted to do at the moment was fall into bed and take a nap.

I yawned and stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind me while Sarah was having a hushed conversation with Kim over something again in the hallway. "Home sweet home." I muttered and flopped down onto the bed and kicked my boots off before crawling up to the pillow. I didn't even bother changing out of my flight suit. Fuck it, I'd worry about it and where she'd drag me tomorrow.

Tomorrow though, came a lot quicker then I would've liked. Sarah was pressed against me with her arms wrapped lazily around me. Yawning, a carefully pushed her off and got up. She whimpered and shifted. Yawning again, I made my way to the bathroom.

When that was done, I went rummaging in the kitchen for coffee and something to eat. We kept the place well enough stocked, so I had no trouble with that. I was happily muching on a donut when Sarah finally got up and made her own way to the bathroom. A minute later, she joined me at the table.

"Morning." She yawned. I nodded and pushed to the package over to her. She grabbed one and took a bite. "You passed out early yesterday." She commented. "Some of the others spent the entire day out in the city." I shrugged.

"Several hours of flying nonstop will do that to you." Sarah nodded whole heartedly to that. We ate and drank in silence, but the mood was nice. After that, I just laid back down and flipped the T.V on. There wasn't much on now a days- just reruns and news. But it was good way to kill a few hours. Sarah laid down next to me and we watched some half-good movie about fighter pilots in the last war.

"You know," Sarah sat up, "I always feel old watching these things."

"Old?" I asked. We weren't that old. _"We're still in our prime goddamnit."_

"Yeah." Sarah nodded. "Most people fighting now were in diapers when the last war was going on. We were both nearly teenagers, I think." She stopped and thought on it. "Yeah, I was about twelve when the war ended.

"I was thirteen. A litte over seventeen years ago." I muttered. "Funny. It doesn't seem like that long." Sarah nodded.

"Time flies when you don't have to worry about things." She commented. "Like-"

_"Uh oh."_ I'd fallen right into this one.

"-therapy." She sat up and looked me in the eys. "You agreed to it, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah." I muttered. "Though I was kind of hoping you'd focus on those kids first." To my wonder, I actually managed to distract her.

"They aren't kids. You just keep thinking they are cause you don't want to know them." I thought it was the beginning of a light arguement. "That's one of the things you should ask the therapist about." ...Damn.

"Alright, alright. Quit looking so damn smug." She laughed and turned back to watch the T.V.

"They're date isn't for another two days anyway." She shrugged. "Besides, I thought our own issues came first." I couldn't disagree with that; Rule 1 to survival was to care about yourself first and always.

"I guess." I admitted reluctantly. "Still, I would've hoped we could work them out ourselves." Sarah nodded.

"So do I." She admitted and laid back down beside me. "But how can we when we don't even know _what_ is wrong with us?" There was only one answer to that.

"There's nothing wrong with us."

"Then what's wrong with me." She corrected.

"There's nothing wrong with you!" I shook my head. "You're perfectly normal."

"For what happened to me." She seemed determined to act like a pessimest. But somehow, I could bring myself to be agitated over it. "Look." Sarah rolled over on top of me so she could look me right in the eye. "I know you're more then willing to put up with me, and that means more to me then _anything_ else I'll ever be able to get. But I don't want _that_. I want us to agree with each other, and not have all these issues popping up and making things awkward. I want us to _work._" She stared at me intensely.

"Alright, alright!" This was making me way too uncomfortable, and her stare definitely was really unnerving. I sat up and Sarah readjusted herself so she was sitting on my lap and still facing me. "If you want something that bad, I'm not going to say no to you. It might even be good for me to. But goddamnit-" I stopped, unsure of where to take the rant.

"I know." Sarah wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder. "You don't like change. I don't either. But we _have_ to do this. Have to." She repeated.

"Yeah, yeah." I muttered awkwardly and gently pushed her off. "I know." I looked the clock on the wall. It was technically 5 P.M, but people worked on different schedules now. "Are they open now?" I asked. Looking a little dazed, she nodded. "Alright then." I said. I could've sworn the next words came out of someone else's mouth. "Then let's go."

X James X

We hopped up the stairs two at a time. This was the second time today we were seeing if they were home. The first time, they hadn't, so we'd just gone into the city for some food. That been about four hours ago. Surely they were home by now? I'd only rapped on the door once before the hurried clicking of locks being unlocked began. Yep, definitely home.

With a squeal, Victoria flung herself around both of our legs again. She still certainly acted like a child. "You're both still alive!" She certainly didn't sound like it though.

"What'd you expect?" Peter asked. She didn't answer and finally jumped back up and invited us inside.

"We saw the battle of TV." She said. "It looked really big."

"It was mostly ships and planes. We weren't involved in the fighting." I said.

"Was Chester there?" She demanded. I frowned.

"We didn't s-"

"Victoria!" At that moment, our aunt came out from the kitchen looking hurried. Victoria huffed and sat down on the couch with her arms crossed.

"She wasn't being annoying." Peter said quickly. She didn't seem to hear him.

"Have a seat, boys. I'm so glad you were able to come back." Awkwardly, we sat down next to Victoria, who still had her arms crossed. Our aunt re-entered the kitchen and came out with three glasses of tea. We all took one and she sat down in a chair. "We saw the battle on the news. It looked awful."

"It was." Peter confirmed. "Lot of wounded." However much that had annoyed him, he remained positive after we got back. Our aunt shook her head.

"Such a waste." In between us, Victoria was still silent. "You're parents would be proud of you." She told us. Both of our nods were just a little tight; that was still a hard thing to accept. "So how long are you boys staying?" She asked.

"Not sure." I admitted. "I know we're here all day today." Immediately, Victoria perked up.

"Let's go somewhere!" She jumped up excitedly. "I know a lot of places we could go to!" She started listing off different places in the city.

"Victoria." Our aunt said warningly. She didn't seem to hear her.

_"Which_ do you guys want to do?" She looked back between each of us eagerly. I bit my lip. Peter gently pushed her back.

"We're a bit busy today." He explained.

"With what?" Victoria whined.

"We have job to do." I told her.

"Being soldiers?" She guessed sourly. I nodded. Victoria suddenly exploded. "That's all boys want to do! You never wanted to visit us and now Chester doesn't want to either. It's stupid!"

"Victoria!" Our aunt snapped with anger I'd never heard before, but Victoria stormed off. A door slammed somewhere. We both sat there, dazed at quickly things had gone downhill. Nothing could've prepared me for that.

"I'm so sorry, boys." Our aunt stood up. "She's just been so upset with everything, I'll have to talk with her later. Thank you for visiting, but I don't think-"

"Of course." I said quickly and we both stood up and left in awkward silence. We hadn't even been there ten minutes. Peter and me didn't exchange a word as we left the building. Victoria's outburst still rung in my head.

_"It's important work."_ I would've loved more then anything to go visit family more often, but it was an important work that needed to be done. I'd visited home twice and wrote every other month or so the three years I was there; I'd made an effort. But I couldn't very well abandon my duty. I knew Peter was the same way.

"She's having stress problems too." Peter finally said once we reached the street.

"Yeah..." I said uneasily and stopped to lean on a light pole. Each step further away from the apartments seemed more and more difficult. "I mean, she's lost most of her family and the rest could die any day, so you can't really blame her..." I scratched my chin thoughtfully.

"Maybe we really should take an entire day off." Peter suggested cautiously.

Half of me applauded the idea. The other half scoffed at it. The rest of the platoon would need supervision for whatever they would be doing, and I did have to stay in shape for our next deployment. But at the same time, I remembered how upset Victoria had been.

"Say we're deployed again and we don't get back." I thought out loud. "I don't want that to be our last encouter with family." Peter nodded.

"I thought the same thing. It's weird being torn in two on something." For him to be torn on anything was an oddity in itself. Without actually agreeing on it, we both turn and headed back into the apartment complex. We only faltered once we got to the door. What were we going to say? Awkwardly, we knocked on the door. Our aunt opened it, looking somewhere between angry and confused. Behind her, we could see Victoria sitting on the couch. She turned away crossly when she noticed us.

"Did you boys forget something?" Our aunt asked in confusion.

"No, we didn't forget anything." I put her mind at ease. "We were just thinking..."

"And decided maybe we could stay and do something today." Peter finished for me. I saw a blur behind her and the next time I looked down, Victoria had already managed to wrap herself around our legs.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She repeated it nearly a dozen more times.

"Victoria! Act your age." Our aunt sounded more resigned then angry.

"Let's go!" She jumped up and started tugging our arms. "C'mon."

"Hold on, hold on." I said, just a bit annoyed by her enthusiasm. I turned back to our aunt but she was already nodding.

"Just make sure she doesn't get into trouble." She said.

"But, don't you want to come?" Peter asked, surprised. Our aunt shook her head.

"No, I'm far too tired. But please, do take Victoria out. She's never gotten out much since..." Our aunt trailed off. "I'll be fine." She managed a smile. "Just take care of her." She stepped back and closed the door, quickly enough for us not to say anything more. Victoria pulled on our arms even harder.

"Let's go!" She said again. Peter and me exchanged glances. It didn't seem right to just leave our aunt by herself. I had to admit she DID look tired. But...

"C"mon!" Victoria was actually pulling us away from the door.

"Alright, alright." I gave up and let her drag me. She squealed with delight and did just that. _"Least she's still a kid." _I though. _"And thank god the war'll be over soon."_ That was something she probably wouldn't understand till she was a few years older: _"I do this because I care."_ She'd know that eventually, just not today.


	44. Chapter 43

XX A/N XX

I apologize if this chapter seems too long- I have to get in the habit of writing them longer so that the upcoming battles don't take twenty chapters to cover. But I'll try and trim it down if anyone has trouble reading through it all.

X Tim X

I did not want to do this. No scratch that, I wanted to run. What the hell was wrong with me? I was an attack helicopter pilot. I charged into gun, missile, and rocket fire for a living without even flinching...and without pay! The only thing I would be doing was talking and that seemed more terrifying then anything. _"How the hell does that work?"_

Sarah, at the very least, looked confident, or at least girlishly innocent; she'd changed into a long skirt and blouse before leaving, and had tied her hair back into a ponytail. Though since her steps seemed a little uneven and she didn't drift more then a few feet away from me, I was sure she was nervous. Otherwise, she seemed bright and uncaring.

I tugged at the t-shirt I was wearing, trying to get it to stop suffocating me. I'd just changed into it and a pair of jeans; why bother with anything fancier? Still, I didn't like it since I didn't dress in civilian garb much. Unlike Sarah, I didn't have much trouble with wearing a flight suit or a utility uniform constantly.

In a way, it was funny: I was far from an ideal soldier, but I was a lot more comfortable in the military then with civilian life. And yet here I was about to figure out how to enter civilian life. Yeah, pretty damn funny.

_"Why the hell did this happen to me?"_ There were any number of fates that I could've got, and here I was with the worst of them. "So where is this place again?" I asked, trying to keep my thoughts from making me even more mad.

"Just a block a way." Sarah said, sounding forcefully calm. "They keep most of the businesses near the housing areas."

"So when'd you find this place?" I asked. I'd been curious about how she was so well prepared for something she didn't like.

"That night we were at the bar." She admitted. "I got to thinking about having kids again and I decided to go ask a doctor if there was anything that could be done again. I passed this place and thought: 'Maybe eventually?'" She gave a nervous shake of her head.

"Not bad thinking." I said to put her mind at ease, even though it made me nervous. Just what other ideas had she had? I didn't have time to worry about that though, since we were somehow already there. It wasn't a fancy building- just a plain white (dirt grey) front with a large sign above it declaring that its was a therapist office and showing the names of some of its doctors.

Sarah stopped just short of the front door and nervously fiddled with her blouse. I stopped behind her and didn't say anything. I wondered for a moment if she was going to back out at the last second. And then I wondered what I would do if she did. Nervously, she turned around to face me. "Just promise me one thing?" She asked.

"...What?" It took me a moment to remember where my voice was.

"Be honest while we're in here." Her voice became adamant. "Say what you want to say even if you think it might upset me. Promise?"

"I don't think-"

"Promise?" She asked more urgently.

"Alright, alright!" I scratched the back of my head to make myself look busy. _"Why does my opinion matter so much?" _She looked relieved and grabbed my hand.

"C'mon." She dragged me through the door. The lobby was like a lobby for any other building- chairs, a front desk, tables stacked with 5 year old magazines- it could be the lobby for a hospital or police station or something. Actually, I'd just go with police station- much more comforting. I stood back while Sarah approached the front desk. For a wonder, there was no one there. "Hello?" Sarah leaned over it and looked around.

There was a crash from behind one of the doors behind it and someone hurried out. "Sorry!" She said quickly. "Can I help you?" She sat down in the chair and tried to look professional. She seemed old enough to have been working here since before things went to hell and a good while before that.

"Yes." Sarah leaned back. "We wondering wonder if you accepted walk ins or if we had to make an appointment?" For one moment I hoped we would have to come back later. But the receptionist nodded and reached under her desk.

"Business is slow right now. Someone can see you immediately."

"Oh good." Sarah sounded perky. She looked back at me. I must've been scowling because she turned back to the receptionist.

"You'll both have to fill these forums out first." She handed Sarah a stack of papers and she came back over to me.

"You need paperwork for this?" I asked.

"Yep." Sarah walked past me and flopped into one of the chairs. Picking up a pen, she crossed one leg over the other and started filling it out. With nothing better to do, I sat down in the next chair and looked around.

"This whole place is dusty." I muttered, looking at what might've been an inch of dust of one of the tables.

"We don't get many people in here anymore." The girl behind the front desk admitted. "It was mostly shell-shocked soldiers that came through here when the war first started, but there aren't many staying in the Capital anymore. Now most of our patients are traumatized kids, but the building stays empty most of the day." She shook her head. "None of the people that really need our help can reach us."

_"Or they don't NEED help." _I tried to look over Sarah's shoulder at what she was filling out. When she noticed, she just handed me the papers pen.

"Fill these out for me for a moment, okay?" She left for one of the side hallways.

"Of course..." I muttered. Should've see that one coming. I grunted and looked at the form. It was pretty basic stuff- name, address, age, such and such. Sarah had filled out the address on both ours sheets, which was good cause I'd never noted it. She hadn't put a middle name on hers and used my last name. Nothing surprising there; she never told me or anyone else her actually last name. I had doubts there were any records of it left either. I also noticed she hadn't put a birthday, only that she was 30. She'd always been silent on a lot of details about her life. I didn't blame her; it probably made it easier to forget.

I started filling out boxes my own side. I had to take my time to recall some of the information; I didn't take these things as seriously of other people usually did. Name: Timothy (_"Bleh"_) Andrew Haskett. Age: 31 ("_Christ I'm getting old"_). Birthday: October 16th (I always remembered that because of the birthday sex). Place of Birth: 'unknown'. Criminal Record? 'Yes'. Felonies? 'No' (they'd been downgraded to misdemeanors). Family? I put a giant 'X' through that entire section.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" I looked up to see woman saying something to the receptionist. "Some woman threw up on the floor near the restroom."

_"Ah hell." _I should've figured her nerves would get to her.

"She seemed very sick." The women went on. I was about to get up when Sarah walked back out of the side hallway.

"Sorry. She addressed the clerk. "I already cleaned it up." The woman sniffed at her and left, seemingly disgusted. Sarah flopped down beside me.

"You okay?" I asked. Sarah just took the stack of papers back from me.

"I just want to get this over with." She started filling out the rest of the information sheets while I watched over her shoulder. The section she was filling out was for whatever subject you were seeking treatment for: amongst them anger issues, development issues, substance abuse, and a whole lot of other conditions common amongst freaks. Sarah marked, to my discomfort, 'relationship issues', 'anger issues', and 'social interaction issues'.

"Don't." She said as soon as I opened my mouth to object. I shut it. She finished the rest of the papers and handed them to the receptionist. I stretched and tried to think while they worked out the last few details. _"It's for the greater good."_ That didn't make it anymore bearable.

"Someone should be able to see us in ten minutes." Sarah sat down beside me. "Did you hear me?" I grunted in response. "Just be positive." She gave me a light shove.

"I'm positive enough not to be puking my guts out." My retort earned another jab in the shoulder, this time much harder. I winced slightly, and then again when Sarah's voice changed tones.

"Yeah, because things will be so fucking hard for you." Her voice held a hint of a snarl. "I'm going to have to talk to a total stranger about shit I couldn't tell you for years."

"Alright, alright!" I rubbed my shoulder. "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm nervous, that's all." I muttered the last part. _"Damnit, that's gonna bruise."_

"Hmph." Sarah gave up trying to talk after that. After what must've been the longest ten minutes in the world, the receptionist said someone was ready to see us.

_"Run damnit, run!" _My mind couldn't make itself up. _"Don't be a pussy."_ It so bad that when I stood up, each of my feet turned in two different directions- one towards the door, and one towards the offices. I forced both feet towards the later.

"Come on." Sarah grabbed my hand and dragged me to the office number the receptionist had given us. She stopped outside the door and turned to face me. "Be honest." She repeated.

"Yeah. Yeah." She scowled at me and turned around.

"Come on." She opened the door and stepped inside, dragging me with her.

The room...wasn't actually that bad. At least it wasn't the brimstone and fire I expected. It was pretty bland but roomy, actually- a desk with a chair behind it, a separate chair, a couch, a couple of potted plants scattered around, and the walls covered with certificates I didn't understand. The woman sitting in the separate chair didn't look that intimidating either- she was only about Sarah's size and not nearly as muscly. She greeted us when we entered and told us to take a seat in a calm voice. Awkwardly, we both sat down on the couch.

It was silence after that for a minute or so while the therapist wrote something down on a clipboard. Like I'd said, she wasn't that remarkable. She kind of looked like the Battalion's Lieutenant, except older and much less threatening. Either way, I wasn't complaining since it wasn't a guy and she at least looked respectable enough. Though those would probably be the only concessions I got here.

While I sat there bathing in my own sweat, Sarah simply hummed with her hands in her lap. At last, the therapist set down whatever she'd been writing and turned to face us. "Hello Mr. and Mrs. Haskett, I'm Penelope Trice and I'll be your therapist so long as you seek treatment here."

"We're not married." I don't know why I blurted that out, but I did. I instantly tried to think of something to smooth over the blunder.

"He's right." Sarah didn't seem to mind at all.

"You two just have the same last name?" She asked. Sarah shook her head.

"No. I just prefer to use his instead of mine. I haven't used my last name in over 25 years." She sounded perfectly content with the fact. To anyone else, it would've been confusing. But the therapist just nodded and picked up another piece of paper to right it down, seemingly unsurprised. That didn't sit right with me.

_"And why the hell is she taking notes?" _That didn't sit right with me either.

"Ok then." She picked up what I quickly recognized as the information sheet we'd filled out. "What encouraged you to seek therapy?" She asked.

"Well..." Sarah played with her hands for a minute. "We were never exactly model citizens..."

_"We didn't want to be either." _But what else was left?

"We grew up in a orphanage." I scratched uncomfortably at how soon she'd said that. "So there was never really many opportunities for us. We joined the military and spent our lives up to this point kind of...recklessly... " Sarah didn't know the right word, but the therapist nodded her on. "But things have changed a lot in the past year, and we know the war will be over soon. And we've been considering how to settle into civilian life."

"And you've run into some issues?" She guessed. Sarah nodded and I decided to say something at least.

"Yeah, and its caused some trouble between us. We've never really had disputes before, so its been...rough." I finished lamely. Not exactly the best opening line, but I got my point across damn it.

"We have different ideas about what it means to settle down in civilian life." Sarah cotinued. At least she didn't come out and mention the kid thing yet. "And we have our own personal issues with it. He doesn't get along with people in general and I..." She stopped. When I looked over, her face was red like she was constipated. "Uh.."

"Take your time." The therapist said gently. Sarah exhaled and tried again.

"I have trust issues." Sarah admitted. "Even with people I've known for a long time, I have these...bad thoughts about them." The therapist nodded and wrote it down. "I know why, I'm just not sure how to overcome it." Sarah admitted. I watched as all the color drained from her face within seconds.

"You don't have to admit the reason if you don't want to." The therapist offered. I wondered if Sarah would, but she shook her head.

"Maybe later." She nearly stuttered. The therapist nodded sympathetically.

"Alright then." She said. "We have a general idea of what to work on. Before we get into the real sessions though, I want to get to know the both of you as people. The root of most problems lay in the past, so lets discuss that for this session. Is there a problem?" When she directly that at me, I realized I'd been scowling at the suggestion.

"He doesn't like talking about the past." Sarah filled in for me. "It's one of the issues between us: I like remembering what happened, and he pretended it never existed. Just give him a moment to digest it and he'll be ready."

_"Only because you say I'll be ready."_ But I'd said I'd give this a go, didn't I?

We spent the next hour discussing how we got to an orphanage and our growing up there. I'd much rather have been in a prison camp, even though I never actually said a world since Sarah explained most of it. Even when she talked about how I ended up there didn't bother me. Then again, it never HAD bothered me; it was done, so why ever bother recalling it? Sarah managed to avoid saying anything about what happened to her- just that her scumbag father was a criminal and the police took her away. She looked strained saying that too.

"How was your interaction with other children there?" She asked once we got to the point we were both in the orphanage.

"They didn't like me even if I tried to be friendly." Sarah said that right off the bat. "They found me...weird." She didn't clarify why that was , and I didn't blame her. "They found him weird since he liked me." She jerked a thumb over to me. "He use to get into a lot of fights with them because of it."

"Is that so?" To my reluctance, she addressed the question to me.

"Yeah..." I admitted.

"Did you make any effort to socialize with other children?" Sarah answered that one for me.

"No. By then he didn't find a point in getting to know people. It was days before he even talked to me."

"Bullshit." I muttered.

"You disagree?" The therapist asked me.

"Yeah, I do." I leaned forward. "I've told her this a hundred times: I only socialize with decent people. And since the worlds full of assholes, I don't get to socialize much." I flopped back.

"And how would you classify a decent person?" To my annoyance, she poised her pencil as she asked. But I answered anyway, ticking off my fingers as I did so.

"Someone who does their job. Someone who doesn't say stupid shit all the time. And someone whose old enough to now how the world works."

"And you've always followed this belief up to now?" She asked.

"Damn straight." I nodded. She wrote that down too. What was with all the notes?

"And how did you handle socializing with others as you grew up?" She directed that question at Sarah, who suddenly seemed reluctant to answer.

"Uhh..."

"She didn't." Now I answered. "The simple fact if the only people either of us have ever bothered interacting with before the world went to hell and gone is each other." I explained. _"And that was perfectly fine as far as I was concerned."_

"Bull-" Sarah stopped herself just in time. "That's not true." She said stubbornly. "I've been great friends with another pilot since she was assigned to the same base as us a year before the meteors even hit."

"Whose ten years younger then you and was the only girl you'd seen up to that point." Without realizing it, I'd started arguing my point. "She barely has any experience socializing with people. I don't see how she can act like a expert on the subject.

Would I ever have said that anywhere else? Not likely. _"Holy shit, this stuff actually works."_

"Am I to infer this causes a lot of trouble between you two?" The therapist asked.

"It's caused a few tense moments." Sarah admitted.

"Which has never happened before we had to deal with any of this." I muttered, wishing for days gone by.

"Do you two miss your lives before the meteors?" She asked.

"It was fun and I don't regret it, but its time to move forward." Sarah said with full confidence.

"Can't really go back, so why complain?" I shrugged. Any discomfort I'd had upon entering had disappeared. The therapist nodded, taking it all in and writing some notes.

"Back to what we were discussing." She kept asking us questions about our time at the orphanage, mostly about our education or any trouble we got into. School? I never really cared. Despite our low attendance, we still did do enough to legally graduate. Trouble? Everything on our records was assault or other altercations with other kids there...And one case of lewd acts in public (we were both minors at the time, so it was technically expunged from our record).

After that, we moved onto our career in the Air Force. She asked about our performance and our relationship to other personnel and any disciplinary problems while there. I didn't really see why that was important; if anything was a cause, it would've happened when we were kids. But, I preferred it over hearing Sarah talk about the orphanage, so we answered willingly enough

We'd always done well enough in exercises; destroyed all our targets, never crashed- we did what was expected. As for other people, sure we'd exchange a word or two with other members of the squadron, but that was about it. Truthfully, I couldn't remember any of their names today. There was a bit of discussion about Captain Jackass, though.

"We weren't exactly hostile towards him." Sarah explained. "We just tried to avoid him." Sarah explained about Waylon's dick-ish behavior, with the therapist asking an occasional question. I didn't see a point in that particular conversation; what idiot wouldn't have avoided him? And why ask questions? As one of the higher officers in the NRA, he had to be well known. But the therapist didn't take any notes and we just went on.

Our disciplinary records there were mostly spotless since no one had ever caught Sarah and me during one of our 'meetings', though I had gotten a few reprimands for 'disrespecting superiors' and 'aggravating other personnel'. I decided to start paying attention when Sarah started talking about Kim. I'd never really cared before, but why ignore it?

_"Man, I've fallen far."_

"Did you have any close female friends before this?" The therapist asked. She scribbled something down when Sarah shook her head.

"No, but her and me have always been really close, just ask him." She motioned to me. Before I answered though, the therapist cut in.

"We'll discuss that later. At the moment, we're trying to get a clear picture on your histories." Sarah looked confused but went on anyway. After that, we got to the fun part: the meteors. For whatever reason, I became nervous when Sarah admitted we'd left the others and that we had considered not staying at the shelter. Thinking back, both those ideas almost seemed... I didn't really know a word.

"Once we heard about the Capital, we started seriously discussing it. And we've talked about it between the battles we've fought in since we got here." Sarah was nearing the end. "Living here would be the actual thing. But the more we've discussed it and some other issues we have, the more tense things become. So we agreed on some outside help." She finished and folded her hands in her lap.

The therapist nodded and looked over the three pages of notes she'd compiled. "There are some holes we may have to discuss in a later session, but this is sufficient."

"Any ideas or theories yet?" Sarah asked. "Any similar cases you've had experience with?" It seemed a bit early to draw conclusions, but the therapist nodded.

"It is very common for people who grow up in an orphanage to join the military; the rigid lifestyle suits them. Many also have trouble in civilian life, since they did not grow up with an example. But each case is different though, so further sessions are needed. We'll have to work on your personal issues in later sessions. But today, I think we've gone over enough." She stood up. Sarah did too. After a moment, I got up stiffly myself.

"Thank you." Sarah actually shook her hand. "I didn't expect even part of an answer so soon." Neither did I, let alone one she could pull off the top of her head.

"The issues are not very hard to identify. Therapy is more about treating issues." She said. Sarah nodded. I had to admit, that did make sense. "You can make another appoint at the desk outside."

"Thanks again." Sarah sounded, and looked, a lot more cheery then when we entered. "Let's go, she grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the office. In the lobby, I waited while she scheduled another session. That had gone...better then I expected. Actually, I was surprised: I'd imagined something a lot worse and lot more embarrassing. I hadn't even expected to say anything. Of course, it may still turn out embarrassing; talking about our history was bad enough, but what else would she ask us about?

I was still considering that when Sarah grabbed me to drag me out of the building. "I scheduled another one for this time tomorrow." She informed me. "No point waiting." I couldn't disagree. I'd rather get this out of the way now then drag it out. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Even though Sarah sounded smug, I noticed her hand waver slightly as she pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her breast pocket.

"I guess she wasn't the fire breathing dragon I expected. Still, you know I hate discussing bad things that happen to them. You don't here Stone telling old war stories and you don't hear veterans selling biographies, do you?" Sarah took a few savage puffs of the cigarette before answering me. _"How can she still be that stressed out?"_

"And yet you keep saying it wasn't that bad." Again, she seemed to have dragged me into a trap. "Hopefully you'll talk about it eventually." She put the cigarette back in her mouth.

"I guess I might." I admitted warily. "Since everything else you hope will happen seems to come true." Sarah laughed and discarded the cigarette before leaning close to me.

"That's because you're a gentlemen who cares about his girlfriend's happiness." She said in a sing song voice.

"I care, but I sure as hell ain't a gentlemen." To illustrate my point, I reached my right hand down and pinched her ass. She squealed and jumped forward a few feet.

"Well, I think the caring part is all that matters." She smiled and fell back in beside me. The caring part was all we'd needed to stay together up to now. But was it enough to keep us together with whatever came next?

X James X

Since we left the apartments, Victoria had yet to quiet down, chatting loudly and rapidly about many different things. I couldn't keep track of a word of it, but she seemed happy, so I didn't try and stop her.

She has between Peter and me and holding on tightly to our arms, occasionally swinging forward with her black hair waving. She was definitely still a kid no matter how much she'd grown. And why not? It was the first time she was hanging out with family for ages. For that matter, it was the first time any of us had been hanging out with family in years. I think we all had the right to act a little loose.

We got about four blocks away before she finally seemed to calm down. "So what are we doing?" She asked excitedly. We hadn't decided on that part yet. We'd always been deployed to fight, never getting a chance to really see the Capital. She'd probably get mad at that.

"What do you want to do?" Peter saved both of us from the risk. Her eyes it up.

"Oh! Can we go to the museum?" She asked. It wasn't the type of request you'd normally hear out of someone her age. Then again, the Capital Museum was one of the most famous in the world. It had artifacts and exhibits on not only Rubinelle's history dating back over a thousand years, but of the entire world as a whole. Even though a good half of it may have been dedicated to military history by now, you could spend a whole week just seeing the other half. I'd been interested in seeing it myself, just never finding the time.

"That sounds good." I nodded. Peter did the same. That could be fun for all. After a quick re-evaluation of where we were, we started walking in that direction. Victoria skipped ahead most of the time, but always came back if she realized how far away she was getting and stayed firmly there before eventually skipping off again. It unnerved me.

I knew she was still upset, but I couldn't really come to blame myself for it. _"I have a necessary job."_ How many people did we save by getting rid of the bandits? If we hadn't held the NRA's flank, what would've happened in the desert? And how would the NRA fare if we hadn't kept its ships from being destroyed? I understood why she would be upset: she didn't get to see any of her family much anymore. But damnit, things would just be worse if I didn't fight. It _was_ necessary. I hoped she'd realize that and forgive us eventually.

But regardless, we weren't out here to argue over moral correctness. Several signs, dusty and eroded but still readable, told us the Capital Museum was just around the corner. Pointing excitedly, Victoria ran ahead and around the corner, forcing us to jog slightly to keep up with her. We both whistled softly when we saw the building- part of it anyway- up ahead.

A lot of the city showed signs of decay and damage either from enemy bombers or lack of rebuilding materials. But the museum stilled looked the way we'd always seen it on TV: massive, colorful, and imposing. The building's exterior still appeared pure white, remarkably. And though noticeably smaller then before, the colorful gardens out front could still be seen from a distance. Some scaffoldings were set up, though the worst damage appeared only to be a few tank-sized holes. They'd put a lot of effort into maintaining this building. I squinted when a shape of its roof became more noticeable as we approached.

"Is that an AA gun?" I asked. _"Can't be, not on a civilian building."_ Peter followed my line of sight.

"Huh." He remarked. "It is. Odd place to put one, don't you think?"

"Maybe they thought Lazuria wouldn't bomb a civilian target?" I guessed. Victoria was waiting impatiently near the curb for us. Looking to make sure the street was clear, she darted across the street to the museums front gate, then tapped her foot impatiently why we crossed.

"Why are you guys so slow?" She complained.

"We aren't athletic runners like you." She stuck her tongue out at Peter's joking reply. "C'mon." The three of us walked up the steps to the front entrance together. I thought Victoria would run ahead again, but she seemed strangely reluctant to venture out from behind us. It didn't take me long to spot why: two soldiers, fully armed, stood on either side of the doorway. Peter and me both looked at them with some confusion.

Their uniforms weren't as shabby as the ones I'd become accustomed to seeing, and the way they covered their faces reeked of Special Forces. They also had full loads of equipment, including ammunition magazines and grenades of various types. As ragged has supply was with limited manufacturing, that was surprising. And why were they here? I was pretty sure we were at a museum, not a Airfield; it seemed a waste of men.

Both of them tipped their heads as we passed, and I managed to catch the patch on one of their shoulders: '1st Royal Guards Brigade'. I blinked, realizing I must've misread it. There was no such thing as a Royal Guard unit in the military- we'd never had any figures on Royalty in government.

We all gazed around when we entered the lobby, struck by the same awe as outside. The tiles were shiny enough to see our reflections, not an inch of dust was to be found, and the whole interior seemed lit up as if the sun was still around. Coupled with a massive version of the National Flag handing from the roof, it was a very intimidating sight. How did they keep this building in such good shape when supplies were so scarce?

"Hello!" We hadn't noticed the employee walking out to meet us. "Welcome to the Capital Museum of History and Science. Would you like a tour?" She smiled kindly.

"Ok!" Victoria blurted out the answer for us. The employee looked at us for confirmation and we both nodded. The whole point was to make her happy, so why argue? Neither of us objected when she grabbed our arms and more or less dragged us along for the entire tour.

The tour guide, perhaps use to such sights, began at the first exhibit: "Rubinelle's creation dates back roughly to the year 543, when the continent was divided between 16 different Kingdoms, of which the country's 16 states are based upon today."

"The Democratic government of which the country is based on originated in what was the Kingdom of Cadigold, situated along Rubinelle's Northeastern coastline in what is now obviously the state of Cadigold, after its monarchy was disposed of in a revolution by peasants. Several reformed nobles worked with the poorer class to form a new type of government which has evolved over the years into the one we know now. This event acted as a catalyst similar revolutions in other kingdoms, and by 1012 twelve of the territories had Democratic goverments." We moved on to the next exhibit.

"Until 1532 all 16 of the countries and kingdoms remained separate and would often wage war against each other for territory and resources. Rubinelle as a country originated that year, when..." The tour carried on for a while, carrying on about Rubinelle's growth in industry and influence well into the seventeen hundreds.

About half way through the tour, we decided to stop at the restaurant built into the museum to eat and give the employee a break as well. Once we told Victoria we'd cover all of it, she immediately began stacking her tray high with food items all along the line. By the time she was done, her tray had at least 10 different things on it and had as much bulk as mine and Peter's combined.

"You're going to get sick if you eat all that." Peter warned when we all sat down at the table.

"I'm hungry." She retorted, offended, and proceeded to scarf down the food in what could charitably be described as 'unladylike'. Peter and me exchanged glances half worry, half questioning. We'd seen that before we reached the shelter: it was often what a starved person would do.

"Do you guys get enough to eat usually?" Peter asked. I was wondering the same myself. True, she was skinny, but that was a family trait and food was scarce generally. And Pausing only after finishing a cupcake, Victoria shook her head.

"Rations aren't that much for civilians." She answered and resumed eating. It was enough to keep her alive, but not enough to keep her from leaping at the chance for food.

That didn't sit well with me; _"Soldiers are suppose to make sure civilians are better off." _We watched, slightly disturbed at how fast she kept eating till eventually Peter starting pulling things off her plate and eating them himself. I couldn't blame him; she really could get sick. Between bites, she asked us questions.

"So what was it like where you were before?" She asked. Since she paused from her eating to listen, we obliged her question.

"It was...difficult." That was perhaps the lightest way either of us could put it. Between murderous raiders and a lack of shelter and food, things here could be paradise.

"Did you think of us why you were gone?" She asked. I bit my lip at the question. In all honesty, I'd been focused on other things. Thinking about home and family would've just made me homesick and ineffective.

"We never forgot." Peter gave the vaguest but most solid answer either of us could think of. Victoria obviously didn't like the incomplete answer, but asked a different question.

"Have you killed anyone?" Coming from anyone, it was a uncomfortable question no matter how it was phrased. Coming so directly from our female little cousin, it was nearly thrice as uncomfortable. She perhaps realized this and explained: "I know Chester killed someone, and he's always acted weird since then. But you two are still the same."

How to answer that question? The simple answer was yes, but she made it more complicated by explaining why she asked. Guilt was a problem some soldiers faced. But I couldn't remember feeling bad about it; it was out of necessity. How many people would've been raped, killed, or robbed if the raiders weren't dead? I suddenly remembered the lost moment when I'd found a family picture on a raider's body. I _had_ felt bad then, but it had still been necessary. Before my mind could contradict itself into oblivion, I tried to divert her question to a less touchy subject.

I kept silent for a moment till I realized I didn't know what to ask. It'd been years since I'd last seen her; I had no idea what she liked anymore. Because of that, I had no idea what to talk about. Feeling embarrassed and slightly ashamed, I let the conversation stay in the same general area.

"How _have _things been with Chester?" I asked. "We haven't heard much." I'd only seen him once for a few minutes, but it had been more then I wanted.

"Mom doesn't like the talk about it." Victoria admitted, putting down her food and kneading her hands in her lap. "She gets upset."

"When did he join?" Peter asked.

"After we moved here." She answered. "He helped on transport planes for a while, and still visited us before he became a regular pilot." She sounded bitter now. "He never wanted to come home after that. The only time he did come home him and mom started arguing. I never found out why."

"He's probably just stressed." I offered when I saw how upset talking about it made her. "He'll come around eventually." It felt like a lie; I'd only met him once, so I couldn't possibly know the extent of the problem. Victoria kept staring into her lap for a moment before resuming eating and nodded.

"I trust you guys. I'm glad you guys are here again." She said. "Things seem a lot better now." They seemed that way, but were they really? Peter nodded at her.

"We're glad to be back." I didn't disagree with him. "Are you done eating?" Peter asked. Both of us had more or less finished, but Victoria's tray still had a few items on them. She thought on it for a second and shook her head.

"No. Let's get back to the tour!' Sounding excited again, she stood up from the chair. "Oh." She stopped rigidly as she was upright. "I don't feel so good." She admitted, holding a arm over her stomach. Peter and me both sighed.

"We warned you that it might make you sick." Peter pointed out. But we decided to be patient with her, more out of pity then anything. If she was really that hungry, I'd make sure to give our aunt some of my ration tickets later. While Victoria excused herself to the bathroom, we took all three of the trays up.

"How can civilians be bad off?" I wondered. Rationing in a time of war wasn't unheard of, but there had been strict laws in place to ensure civilians weren't deprived.

"Not sure. Might not be enough men around for farming and factory jobs?" Peter suggested. We mulled over both of those facts while we waiting for Victoria. At the same time, a soldier walked into the restaurant and slung his M16 over his shoulder before getting his food.

Curiosity overtook manners and I walked over to look at his patch. Sure enough, it said: 1st Royal Guards Brigade. The soldier noticed me staring. "Yeah, I get confused looks like that a lot." He didn't sound offended.

"Ain't ever heard of a Royal Guard unit." I said. Pausing and putting down his sandwich, the soldier nodded for me to continue. "Let alone one that guards a museum."

"I didn't either till I got reassigned." He admitted. By then, Peter had come to stand beside me. "I use to be with the 5th Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment and then I got an un-appealable transfer notice." He seemed bitter now rather then conversational. "Battalion shipped out to the channel last night even though we got orders a week about to remain here permanently. My friends are out there doing god knows what and they stuck me here."

"Seems weird." Peter agreed. I couldn't fathom a reason for such a move either. Why form a new unit when there were still good ones intact?

"Lot of weird things about this Brigade." The former Marine seemed to have forgotten about his food and launched into a story. "We're organized like a traditional one for independent operations, but all we got is outdated vehicles. All the modern stuff should go to the front, yeah, but there are a lot of modern vehicles here in storage that we can't get our hands on."

"That's odd." I said and explained about our own Battalion's reorganization. "I would've thought all the outdated stuff would be in storage by now." The soldier shrugged.

"Who knows what the idiots in Command think? And aside from that, they got us in all these weird posts here in the Capital- museums, monuments, the Presidential Palace, but no where military." He scoffed. "Said we're 'Protecting the valuable history and culture and our grand Homeland's achievements'."

"Have any of them come under attack before?" I asked. I knew attacking civilian targets was illegal, but still used to affect morale. He shrugged again.

"They fire bombed the Capital twice, but it never got no where near any of the civilian centers." He said. That didn't seem bad enough to warrant a new unit being created.

"Seems like a waste of men and vehicles."

"You're damn right it is!" He leaned forward. "When I was on the front, I killed sixteen people. _Sixteen_ people in ten minutes. Four of them with my knife. Most of the other people reassigned have gotten awards for similar acts. Best fighters in the country and we're stuck back here guarding some worthless sh- trashy art." Looking slightly abashed, he'd changed his tone and word choice mid-sentence. Victoria had walked up behind us.

"My throat hurts." She complained in a raspy voice. Sure enough, she'd ended up throwing up most of what she ate. Peter offered to buy her another drink and led her back to the counter. I watched them go before turning back to the discussion.

"Okay, so you're a guard force." He seemed offended at the term. "But why the 'Royal Guards' part?" At that, he shrugged.

"Not sure myself. We were told the unit's heritage originates from a formation of knights from the Kingdom that use to be here: they'd guard the nation's treasures and its ruler with their life. Not sure why the hell they need us to guard it all though." Neither could I. Realizing Victoria would want to get back to the tour, I cut the conversation short.

"I was just wondering. Thanks for the explanation." The soldier nodded and waved as I walked back.

"Yeah, and good luck when you get deployed again. Lucky bastard." But he said it in good nature.

_"Huh. Royal Guards."_ The idea still seemed absurd in my opinion. But I'd gotten my answer, so I didn't complain when Victoria dragged us along for the rest of the tour, the next few exhibits finally getting into Rubinelle's early conflicts with Lazuria.

We'd probably been there for about four hours total before even Victoria decided she was too tired, and left after thanking the employee for a wonderful tour. Instead of running ahead again, Victoria seemed perfectly content to stay beside us now.

"That was fun! I learned a whole lot." She yawned. "Can we go again soon?" She asked hopefully. Her face fell as soon as she asked it.

"Maybe when the war is over." Peter offered gently.

"And when will that be?" Victoria asked bitterly. That was a good question. Neither side was willing for a cease fire and neither had a open road to the other's Capital. "Why did everyone have to sign up for war?" She asked again, looking at both of us with hurt eyes. "My mom's the only one I ever see anymore."

"We'll visit." I offered.

"You never visited us before. You only cared once you got here." She countered. That hit home. We'd only ever physically gone back home once since we enlisted, and then we just visited out parents. Otherwise, we only sent letters or called. We were usually too busy with training exercises to get breaks.

"...Sorry." Victoria seemed to realize she'd gone too far.

"Nah, its okay." I said the first thing that came to mind.

"We know its been rough." Peter offered. I knew her words had hit close to home for him as well.

"I just want to go back home with everyone." She went on. Home. What was home to us anymore? The town we'd grew up in, along with any more family and friends we had had, were probably nothing more then a pile of charred rubble at least 400 miles away. One I hadn't seen in five years...

"You must know that isn't possible." Peter said carefully. "Things will be fine here eventually. Just wait and see." By her moody silence, I gathered she didn't like either ideas.

"Cheer up. You had fun didn't you?" I asked. She nodded quickly.

"Did you?"

"Of course." We couldn't remember the last time we'd spent time with family. Or for that matter remember the last time we did anything non-work related for five hours. It felt good not to have to worry about such things are sniper fire or air strikes. _"I'm surprised I never missed it more."_

"Who doesn't like spending time with their little cousin?" Peter rubbed her head for what might've been the fifth time that day. We'd always done that before we left for training. She'd accepted the first few times, but started getting annoyed now.

"Stop!" She complained. "I'm not little! I'm almost thirteen, you know!" She said. That startled me; I still remembered when she couldn't even walk. But I quickly realized she wasn't trying to be angry.

"But you'll always be our little cousin." I tried to rub her head and she ducked.

"You're both still as annoying as when you left!" She whined dramatically, which made us all laugh.

"That's what family is for." I told her.

"Well then _I'm_ going to be annoying to _you_." She warned.

"Good luck." Peter shook her off. This time, we both went in for the kill. Since we each were holding one of her hands, she couldn't stop us.

"Stop! Stop! You're ruining my hair!" She squealed. "I'll get you for that!" She warned when we let up back up, but still stayed right between us as we walked her home.

_"Good times."_ I thought, but sobered up when we stopped at a crosswalk to let a convoy of trucks pass. _"But we gotta end this war fast if we want anymore of them."_


	45. Chapter 44

X Tim X

"And though many sacrifices have been made, I know that no soldier of Rubinelle will stop until Lazuria falls under our heel." The camera panned away from Admiral Greyfield as cheering went on in the background. Laying beside me with her head on my shoulder, Sarah snorted.

"He sure knows how to play it up." She admitted.

"If only he could lose a few pounds." I shrugged. On the TV, the camera zoomed back in.

"At this very moment, our brave men and women are striking at the tattered remains of their defensive line-"

"Yeah, cause ours is solid as a wall." I muttered.

"-and will break through to the mainland any day now. Within a year, Rubinelle will take it rightful place as the greatest country in the world and right all wrongs every dealt to it." When the cheering started again, I muted it.

"Patriotic bullshit." I muttered. We'd never fallen for that stuff, no matter how often it was said. It was just to cover up everyone's true motives for hating each other like normal humans always do.

"Mhm." Sarah hummed agreement. "Change the channel then." And I did a few times before we settled on one of the thousands of war movies people loved oh so much. When the credits rolled, Sarah finally sat up and got out of bed to stretch while I was perfectly content to stay in bed. I watched her head out to the kitchen, still wearing nothing but a white t-shirt and a pair of faded purple panties.

"You already got them off once yesterday." She caught me staring and pulled the back of her shirt down just to spite me. I laughed. "Hmph." She feigned annoyance. She came back a minute later with two cans of soda and a bag of pretzels. "Here." She tossed me one of the cans and laid back down. I wrapped an arm back around her midsection and started flicking through the channels again, this time settling on the news.

"The Lazurian Air Force was dealt a severe blow today by the Rubinelle Navy." A reporter was saying while the screen showed images, taken from a plane, of several smoldering air fields. "Gunboats from the NRA Navy snuck up several rivers within Lazuria and launched a surprise attack, completely crippling Lazurian air operations in the area."

"Propaganda." I changed the channel again and started flipping through them to find something to watch. Sarah rested her head in the crook of my arm and draped a hand over my chest.

"Three hours." Sarah informed me.

"Huh?" I wasn't paying attention.

"Three hours until our next session." I could feel her tense up as she said it.

"Oh." My hand stopped clicking on the remote. "Ok then." I shrugged and kept channel surfing. I'd survived once, so how could the next time be any harder? She still seemed tense though, so I asked: "Something wrong?"

"I'm still not sure how to tell her what happened to me." Sarah pressed herself closer. "I know I should, but I can't."

"Well...uh..." Damn, this still wasn't my area of expertise, and I felt like a jackass because of it. _"I should be more supportive."_ But what the hell did I know about any of this stuff? For that matter, how could I since she was a unique case? My mind wandered for a few minutes.

"Just..." The sentence pieced itself together awkwardly as I said it. "...remember that.. you're...not the first." I began to talk more certainly as it came together. "She's probably already talked with some people with the same problem, so she won't judge you. And aside from that, you're stronger then any of them because you never let it really bother you."

"..." Sarah considered my words for a moment and sat up. "I'm still not sure I can say it." She admitted. "It took me years to tell you...and I'm still not sure I should've told Kim." My mind raced to find an answer to that.

"You're not that ashamed about the actual...thing, are you?" I took a gamble with that question. _"For once let me get something right about her!" _The question knocked her out of her anxiety for the moment.

"What makes you say that?" Sarah looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"You're not the first girl I've known that was..." The word got caught on my tongue. "You know, the other cases in the orphanage." I said awkwardly but continued. "I saw how a lot of them acted, even when they got older- all shy and reclusive and depressed. You're the opposite of that- your loud and un-modest and in bed you've always had the energy of horny High School girl." The last one earned me a light punch or several, but I think I'd gotten my point across.

"Pervert!" But I thought she was trying not to laugh. "Maybe its not so surprising that you never thought it." She laid back down and closed her eyes. "You're right though- I learned to not really care about it then. But..."

"Go on."

"It was diffrerent when we were kids and in the military. My bladder problem makes things hard, but I can still live with it, and I still am a woman. It's just that the one thing I can't do is kind of the center piece of a regular life." Somehow, we'd found ourselves at the kid thing again. I wonder if she did that on purpose to keep me from forgetting.

_"Or maybe its the source of the problem? The problem YOU have a responsibility to fix."_ I wondered where that thought had come from; that one thing could be the entire reason...could it? I went so long without responding that Sarah pinched my arm to grab my attention again.

"A whole lot of things changed, yeah." I admitted. "But you've already beaten it once before. You can do it again!" Even after all this time, it still confused me how she'd been okay for so long and _then_ broke down. But then again, I had a dick, so what did I know about it? Sarah thought about my words for a moment and then nodded. "And...uh..." I meant to reassure her on her last point, but nothing came to mind.

"It's okay." Sarah put me at ease. "I know what you meant."

_"I didn't, so of course you do."_ I started rubbing her back with my arm and she closed her eyes and drifted off. I watched her for a few minutes then chased down the renegade thought from earlier.

_Could_ it be the root of the problem? I knew it was the one thing she'd always wanted, but I'd never imagined it was that bad. We'd always prided ourselves on not being normal, but always in less...intimate...issues. But what about the timing? Stuck in the military with no opportunity to get out- why worry? Knowing the military will eventually be disbanded- worry a whole lot. There was some connection between them.

I laid there for a good hour and a half trying to figure out that connection why Sarah slept peacefully. I must've dozed off because next thing I remembered was Sarah jabbing me in the ribs trying to get me up. I grumbled and rolled over and waved her off.

"Forty-five minutes. You need to get ready." She kept poking me.

"Alright, alright!" I sat up and rubbed my head. Satisfied, Sarah got up and headed towards the bathroom. "Jeez." I yawned, feeling tired despite the extra sleep. After sorting through my rather small inventory of clothes, I threw up another pair of jeans and a plain grey shirt before pulling my boots on. It would do, and done in only a minute. I wasn't sure why we'd needed nearly an hour to prepare.

"Couldn't have let me sleep a while longer, could you?" Sarah was taking her time, so I went over towards the bathroom and leaned in the open doorway. "I mean-" I stopped and cocked my head to the side when I saw Sarah standing in front of the mirror. "You use _make-up_?" I gawked in disbelief.

"Yeah." She paused the motions with the brush to look back at me. "Why do you sound so shocked?"

"Because, you stopped using make up and wearing anything bright when you were ten." I pointed out. She shrugged and continued to apply the stuff in the mirror.

"Well I'd like to look nicer for a change." She shrugged. "And didn't anyone tell you its rude to walk into the bathroom when a lady's using it?"

"'Lady'?" I snorted. "Those clothes are going to your head. Twenty five years and I can count on my left hand how many times you've bothered closing the bathroom door, all the vulgar expressions you've ever said, and how many full grown men you've managed to knock out." In the mirror, I saw her face redden.

"That's while we were in the military." Her application became a bit more forced. "Since we'll be civilians, I figured I might as well act more the role." As she said that, I tried to picture her doing such things: Going shopping with a grocery cart, cooking meals in a kitchen, dusting things with a feather duster... "What's so funny?" Sarah turned to face me when I started laughing at how stupid it looked in my head.

"Nothing." I shook my head to clear it. "I just can't imagine you doing any of that stuff- it'd look ridiculous." She huffed indignantly.

"Well, your imagination better start growing, cause its happening." Confident in having had the last word, she turned to a different subject. "How do I look?" I stepped back to observe. Her hair was the same as yesterday, but the make-up made a noticeable difference to her face. She looked...younger, without the stress marks and scars. The button up white blouse she was wearing was plain but well fitting. A red skirt ended a bit above her knees. Pretty, very pretty actually. She almost looked like a teenager again. Some less then innocent memories popped into my head.

"Well, at least half of you likes it." Sarah glanced down.

"You know what? I'll repeat what I said before: you look really nice in girly clothes." She smiled at the compliment.

"Aww, you're always sweet. But no ideas!" She warned, pointing an accusing figure at me. "I spent a lot of time getting ready." When I took a step forward as a joke, she squealed and closed and locked the door. I tapped it in mock frustration. "No!" She laughed from the other side. "Later." I took her word for it, shrugged to myself, and walked back over and flopped down on the bed.

"So what do you figure we'll talk about today?" I asked her when she finally came out.

"I'm pretty sure we'll still just trying to get to know each other." She made a quick sweep of the apartment while she spoke. "So we'll probably be talking about us."

"Great..." I said unenthusiastically.

"It won't kill you." She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Let's go. We got twenty five minutes." Grumbling, I got up and followed her out of the apartment. As we walked down the stairs two kids from the bomber crews, whose names I'd still never bothered with, stopped and stared at Sarah as she passed. I snarled at them threateningly as I passed, making a slitting motion across my throat. The went on with their business at a slightly faster pace.

Once outside, we walked at a brisk pace- it was a lot colder in plain clothes- towards the office again. Talking about ourselves, huh? Why the hell did that bother me so much?

_"Like I give a damn what people think." _Sarah evidently thought differently- I noticed her steps become uneven and her face become strangely pale and strained the closer we got. If she was trying to adopt a more girlish character, I'd imagine that particular...event... would ruin the image if it ever got out. There was a saying about people, secrets, and being six feet under that would've applied nicely in my opinion, but I couldn't remember it off the top of my head.

The building was still plain looking when we got there, but now much less threatening. The receptionist was actually at her post this time and said we could be seen within the minute. Sarah sat down in the chair beside me and put a firmly gripped hand on my shoulder.

"Complete honesty." She repeated. I pushed her hand down.

"As you say." She didn't say another word after that. She still had the same look etched on her face from earlier. A moment before the receptionist said the therapist was ready, Sarah had gotten up went at a slight jog towards the bathroom, covering her mouth the whole time. This left we wondering whether to wait or go ahead. When the receptionist repeated her message, I decided to head to the office; Sarah probably didn't want to be bothered.

The therapist, whose name I'd forgot since yesterday, looked up when I entered. Aside from a different set of clothes, she was sitting exactly how she'd been yesterday. She glanced behind me when I entered and raised an eyebrow when I closed the door behind me and sat down.

"Sarah will be along in a minute." I answered her inevitable question. "She had to use the restroom." The therapist nodded, then asked me a question.

"So you two are not married?" I wasn't sure whether or not since Sarah was here. Shouldn't I have had a lawyer here too?

"That's right." I answered, uneasily. "Never saw the point- what is it but a waste of paper? We're together, we always have been, and we always will." I shrugged. _"Hopefully always." _I thought to myself; things still seems a little trouble. "There were always more important things to worry about, anyway." I finished. Like yesterday, she wrote it all down.

At that moment, Sarah finally came in looking a bit pale. She apologized as she sat down next to me. Her hand hovered over to mine before clamping with extreme force.

"Sorry. Bit of an upset stomach." She explained. "Hope I didn't hold you up."

"Not at all." The therapist assured her. "Now, continuing on from yesterday-"

"Actually," Sarah interrupted her. "I need to say something. I wasn't entirely honest yesterday..." She faltered, and the pain in my hand increased noticeably. "I um..." I thought for a moment my bones were going to break. "Something I need to say...but..." Someone like understand flashed in the therapist's eyes.

"If you're having trouble saying it, perhaps you could write it?" She offered Sarah a pen and piece of paper. Sarah's eyes lit up like a light bulb. Writing had never occurred to her. Me? I figured something important should be said face to face. But in her instance, I was indifferent. My throbbing hand was grateful though.

"Y-yeah." Sarah stuttered. She took the two items and propped the paper on her knee. The pencil hovered over the paper for a few moments before she started writing, and kept writing for a while. I looked over her shoulder and grunted in surprise. It was all there: what had happened, the side effects, the recent breakdown, everything. I couldn't imagine her explaining it like that in words.

"How'd you know writing would help?" I couldn't stop myself from asking and looked up.

"It's a common way people express ideas and feelings." The therapist explained. "Its easier to express something in writing then words for some individuals." That sounded like a bunch of poetic bullshit. I would've said so if it didn't seem to be so effective. I watched Sarah simply pour out most of what she'd ever said about it to me, recent or not, onto the sheet before holding it up to examine her handy work.

Her hand wavered slightly as she handed it over, and went back to strangling mine as soon as the therapist took it, no doubt immediately regretting her decision. The therapist read and read. Sarah squeezed and squeezed. And I cursed under my breath at the feeling of pain. At last, the therapist nodded and I felt Sarah's grip lessen.

"That's entirely understandable." At the therapist's words, Sarah finally stopped squeezing, though she kept holding. "No need to fret over back tracking either." Sarah looked relieved.

_"Something that big has a simple solution? I don't believe it."_ But it was right in front of me.

"I'm sorry." Sarah stumbled slightly over the words. "Probably should've said that earlier...do...you get any...rape cases here?" She asked tentatively. For the first time, I saw something register on the therapist's face that I couldn't place.

"We have experience on other cases." She jumped right back to business. "So this is a central issue between you two?" She asked.

"It doesn't bother him." Sarah answered for me. "But it...makes me infertile and that makes me upset and that causes tension." She explained. The therapist nodded.

"So the fact doesn't bother you at all." She turned to me for conformation. I hesitated in answering; Things were getting WAY too uncomfortable for me. And this early? Give me a break!

"No." I repeated what Sarah had said. "It doesn't. It wasn't her fault, so why blame her?" It took me a moment of contemplation to continue. 'Complete honesty' rang in my head. "I just don't like her mood swings about it." Sarah turned and looked at me, though I didn't look to see her expression.

"Go on." The therapist prompted.

"She was fine before the world went to hell. She was _5 years old_ and she hid it and was bright and cheery. Ok, there were a few moments over the years, but it never became a big issue till the meteors fell and she never told me till last year. And now its problems, problems, problems."

_"Why am I arguing here?" _

"Last year?" The therapist asked to make sure she'd heard right. "That's a very unusual length of time." She wrote it down.

"It's part of the problem." Sarah admitted. "I know I should've trusted him- he's always helped me with the side effects before he knew. But I..." Sarah faltered. I'd turned my head to stare at the wall. The therapist wrote down a few more things.

"It's entirely natural for victims." She consoled Sarah. "Some go their whole lives without revealing it." Sarah nodded. "In any case, we can now address it in the upcoming sessions."

"I honestly though I could beat it." She mumbled it so I was certain I was the only one to hear. She probably would of- if the world hadn't gone to shit. Even now, I still couldn't decide whether that reality or this was more attractive.

"For today's session, I wanted to discuss you two." The therapist went on. "Your relationship with each other. Given your difficulties, it seems to me as if you two have a unconventional relationship." The fact that she used the same term to describe it as we did surprised me long enough for Sarah to regain herself and respond.

"We use that word ourselves." Sarah admitted. The therapist nodded approvingly and wrote that down.

_"How far inside my head is she?"_ I focused when she spoke again.

"To start, I want to hear each of you describe what you think your relationship is in ten words or less." She suggested. Exercises. Great. I rolled my eyes.

"Mutually beneficial." Sarah said it as if it had been a prepared answer. It probably had been. I froze up when both women turned to look at me.

"Uhh..." My mind went blank for a minute. What was a good word for it? "Unbreakable?" I said the first thing that came to mind. _"Is that a good answer?"_ I looked over and saw the corners of Sarah's lips curve. _"Yep."_

"Interesting answers." She wrote those down. "Would you care to explain?" She turned to Sarah first.

"We've propped each other up all the way to this point. He's helped me with issues I've had- physical and mental- all my life without even wanting an explanation. Or having a clue he was doing it; he just did it sub-consciously. And I've kept him alive and out of jail, not to mention polish his social habits." I snorted. "Even though they still need some work." Sarah shoved my shoulder. Next, I had to explain my own idiotic outburst.

"Well..." I tried to figure out just how much to say. I had to defend my point of view, and Sarah had said to be honest. On the other hand, there were personal matters you just didn't discuss. Sure they happened, but you did NOT discuss them; you didn't even think about them. "Her and me have been through a lot together: an orphanage, the military, personal issues, and now an apocalypse. Most of those tear people apart in a hurry, but we're still together." I started awkwardly, realizing my face was heating up the more I talked. "And...I do help her with some of her issues in ways that most people would find... uh...something." Again, I stumbled over my words.

"Okay." The therapist nodded, and gave me a reprive. "Let's start from the beginning when you both became acquainted; give me a brief version of the history between you two." She directed the next part at me. "I'd like you to participate more this time- you were mostly silent in the last session." Trying to suppress a grunt, I nodded to show I'd heard.

_"Do NOT say anything embarrassing about me." _I hoped this was one of the moments Sarah could tell exactly what I was thinking. She looked a little eager to tell the story, and that made me nervous.

"Well, we just started out as good friends when we were little kids, obviously- we stayed around each other because no one else would go near either of us and the staff set us up." She started. "But we inseparable almost instantly; we did everything together. The staff even got us bathing suits so we could take baths together. At night I'd sometimes sneak in his room and we'd sleep in the same bed together. We always played together, we always ate together, and anything else there was to do together. The staff supported it since we it was the only social behavior we'd shown."

"Yeah. Never tried to stop us at all." Since that hadn't been so bad, I agreed with Sarah. "You could never pull us apart."

"Thinks changed as we got older, though, a whole lot actually." Sarah moved the story on. "Since teenagers only do one thing, the staff in that ward weren't as supporting." The room suddenly felt like hell in the summer and I directed my eyes to the wall. "It was probably a good thing though, since we probably couldn't survive life glued to each other constantly."

"Yeah..." I agreed reluctantly.

"Our relationship became more physical during that time." I had to resist the urge to clamp my hand over her mouth. Then, to my ultimate relief, she went on to a different subject. "Both of our problems kind of originated there too."

"Yeah." I did everything in my power to keep this conversation where it was. "I ended up living with a bunch of assholes and realized the world's nothing but."

"Ok. Were there any other developments during that time?" The therapist asked.

"Our personalities." Sarah admitted. "We were both very...immature." That wasn't the exact word I'd used, but my past self definitely seemed like a dick now. "Messing with younger kids, smoking, picking fights, and other things. He was a perverted brawler and I kept acting like a tomboy."

"Hey!" But I knew she was right, and looking back I was a little ashamed, but it seemed an unfair description. "I'll admit that we wasted that part of our lives doing stupid shit, but that wasn't all we did."

"But we got a lot closer emotionally, since my issues started up around then and he always tried to reassure me." Sarah continued. "The more that happened, the more we mellowed out. By the time we both entered the Air Force, we were a lot less reckless and a bit more reclusive."

"How many years were you in the Air Force?" The therapist interrupted to ask and then wrote down six years. "Go on." There was silence till Sarah nudged me. My cue, apparently.

"Uhh..." Story telling was not my talent. "Well, with jobs and separate living spaces, most of our interaction was only in work- since we were paired together in the same helicopter. But when we weren't working we still stayed around each other." Unlike Sarah, I wasn't going to detail things that shouldn't be said. "Actually, I think its the best part of our history- there wasn't anything to really worry about, the people around us at least didn't agitate us, Sarah never really had any emotional episodes like in the orphanage. It was like that for nearly the whole time."

"So not a lot of development there? No change?" The therapist asked, and I realized there was a significance to it I didn't realize.

"Yeah..." I admitted.

"Our last year had a certain change to it." Sarah gave me a jab with her elbow.

"Huh?" Realization. "Oh yeah- she made this new friend in our last year and started spending more time with her."

"Did this cause any problems?" The therapist asked. We both shook our head.

"No, though he was a bit grouchy about it at first." Sarah explained. "He actually came to act like a older brother to her." She smiled at me. The kind of smile that said: _"Admit it." _

"I didn't really care." I shot a glare back her way. "She was happy, so why bother?" The therapist nodded and wrote it down. "Then the whole 'apocalypse raining hell' saga began."

"How did you two initially respond to it?" She asked.

"A bit surprised, but we went on. What the hell else could we do?" The pencil scratched noisily on the paper.

"Go on." She prompted.

"Well, we kind of liked the change." Sarah admitted. "For the first time in a while we could actually sleep in a bed together. Since authority kind of broke down, we became pretty close again. But for some reason it eventually caused me to have a mental breakdown." She admitted, embarrassed. "I eventually told him what had happened to me." I took over since Sarah seemed to be forcing her words, and for obvious reasons skipped our 'adventure' with Captain Jackass and our desertion.

"We ended up getting picked up by this tank Battalion and helped them clean up some raider problems in the state. Been with them since. They found this old government shelter and we lived there for a year, pretty much out of work."

"We still had our uniforms, but it was a calmer life." Sarah regained her enthusiasm. "Not really the whole 'a house and a lawn and a kid' sorta life, but it was livable. Really, it was like being in the Air Force again." The whole thing had been uneventful unless you were on search and rescue duty. Otherwise, you just sat on your ass all day, ate at certain times, talked with people...or sneaked off somewhere secluded for fun. Looking back, I'm surprised I spent a whole year doing that.

There was a break in the story since we had to explain to the therapist we weren't initially part of the NRA, but things got rolling again quickly.

"I had a revelation when we got here." As she started, Sarah suddenly sounded defensive. "There was everything here: housing, jobs, people. We could live a _normal_ life."

"And this is where the problems started?" The therapist repeated. I nodded.

"Yeah." I took over. "She's grabbing everything by the goddamn horns and trying to shove it down my throat. I know we've got to move on eventually, but taking it all at once is impossible." To my annoyance, the therapist waved off my defense.

"We're still focusing on your history. Continue please." The rest was just a pretty brief wrap up of the past few weeks: Sarah finding out about the surgery, blurting it out to me, and becoming temperamental about waiting. Then, just when I thought things would be okay, Sarah concluded her story in the most embarssing way possible.

"And we agreed on this to try and get things settled. I just want to make clear its not really our relationship." Sarah said fussily. "The physical and emotional aspects are just fine, but our personal issues are starting to get in the way. " Sarah finished while I tried to turn invisible. The therapist nodded and looked over the vast amount of notes she'd taken.

"So you two have never had any disagreements up to this point?" Sarah shook her head. "And your emotion relationship and sex life play a important role in your relationship?" My face heated up at the last one while Sarah nodded.

_"How the hell is THAT relevant?" _I hid my face while the therapist nodded before speaking again.

"Such a heavy reliance and constant agreement between partners can be straining to relationships, usually." She informed us. "But as far as I can see, it is a positive thing in your case." She mused to herself. "I think that's enough for today; it's better to tackle one issue per session." I would've called that a rip off, except that this was free like everything else. "So I think that's all for today. Next session we can start discussing the core issues."

"Ok. Thank you." Sarah stood up. I did the same, feeling not all that stiff; it must've only been forty minutes or so. After the same handshake as yesterday, we left. The similarities to yesterday continued. "Not so bad, was it?" Sarah nudged me with her elbow. I grunted in response. "Lighten up." It came out as more of an order this time. "We're making progress."

"I know. But things are getting a little too..._personal._" Sarah replied with a snort. "I'm being serious."

"Believe me," Sarah dismissed my rant, "if anything comes up, it's important." I looked around once, twice, and even a fifth time to make sure no one else was around.

"How the hell was THAT related to anything?" I demanded. I didn't have to say it because Sarah knew exactly what I meant. I got a knowing smile in return and Sarah picked up her pace. "Hey!" She skipped just outside of my reach.

"Oh, calm down." She finally slowed and leaned on my shoulder. "It's all confidential, remember?" That calmed me down...some."

"Just try and keep it to what absolutely has to be said." I muttered.

"Yes, honey." She stood up right again and took a few steps ahead. "I swear, you're probably the only guy in the world who doesn't brag." Of course I didn't; like I said: you NEVER talk about things behind closed doors, even behind other closed doors... But again: no choice really. God I hated reality.

"You'll be the death of me one of these days." I sighed dramatically.

"Don't worry; I'll follow you shortly after any which way." I didn't really catch the darkness in her reply. In fact, it almost made me glad. We would be stuck together till we were both in the ground. That was one less issue to worry about. Now if only I could convince myself of that.

X James X

"But you can't really blame her."

"I know- that's the problem." I turned my eyes to the rest of the bar to make sure none of the privates in our platoon were getting into trouble. Over the past hour we'd had to send some back to the barracks after a fight, assign others to carry a passed out private back, and we'd had to shoo others away from some of the female service members more times then I could count. I still hadn't asked for my position of authority, but I took it seriously.

"Victoria needs _some_ sort of role model." Peter brought me back into the conversation and the troubling topic of our two cousins. "They both need guidance. Chester probably jumped at the chance to enlist without thinking about it." I didn't doubt that, since he still was, if I recalled correctly, in his late teens. Peter and me had considered and studied the option for years in advance. We'd been _sure_. All the kids in the NRA had probably been swept up in the euphoria of the war.

_"That's wrong, damnit."_ But what he could do? He'd already signed his papers... _"Nothing except wait for the war to end." _That would be soon the way things were still rolling, but that wasn't much condolence in a war. "He can't take it back now though." I shrugged in defeat. I brought the beer up to my lips and glanced around the room again. No trouble...yet.

"I wish he'd at least stop by and talk to us." Peter tapped the table top in frustration. "You said he was visiting them when you saw him?"

"He was there, anyway." Though I could think of no other reason he'd be there. Peter thought over this. At that moment, I glanced over and saw one of ours- a Private Brett, stumble away from the bar looking rather ill. I glanced and located another too privates playing darts.

"Featherston, Potter! Take him back to the barracks." They looked crestfallen at having their game interrupted, but did as they were told. Brett managed to avoid retching till they were out of the door.

"I wonder if he'll visit them again..." Peter mused.

"Last meeting didn't seem to go so well." I scratched the back of my head in uneasiness. "Won't be another anytime soon, that's for sure." I said in frustration.

"Damnit." Like usual, Peter cursing surprised me. "Gotta be _something_." He stressed. Destroying enemy tanks? We were trained for that. Taking cover from a shelling warship? Also trained for that. This... We weren't sure. I'd never realized how out of touch I'd become with the more normal side of living until recently. It made me feel guilty.

We drunk in silence for a few minutes, thinking to ourselves. Sam more or less took over policing of the privates, though it was clear he was tipsy himself. The question continued to play out in my mind, but no answer ever came. Wait till the war was over...then what? Start patching things up? Where would we start? I'd never given any serious thought to post-dismissal life. For whatever reason, the thought made me flinch and I took a fortifying sip of beer. A morbid savior came to stop me from further thinking.

The sound was faint and probably a good while away, but the low whistling seemed to reach every ear in the bar. Everyone quieted down enough that we could hear the distant _boom_, which effectively canceled out any noise left as the sober and drunk alike stopped. My mind, a little fuzzy, snapped alert due to experience and memory.

"Someone doing artillery training?" Someone asked out loud. In the days I'd been in the Capital, I couldn't once re-call such a thing- usually ammunition that wasn't infantry weapons was rationed and not used in training. Then we heard the whistling again, this time louder. The explosion, closer as well, caused a few things to shake. Everyone, including the quickly-sobered drunks, jumped to their feet.

"Who the hell is firing artillery in the middle of the Capital?!" The soldier who spoke the question, along with several others, rushed out the door to investigate. I tried to make sense of it all. We were in the center of the Capital, behind miles of defended land and rivers. There was absolutely no possible way Lazuria could be here. Peter and me looked at each other and the same thing popped into our mind at the same time and we acted simultaneously.

"Get back to the barracks!" We meant the yell only for the men in our own platoon, but the bar's other occupants seemed to find the idea appealing and surged out through the door and scattered back for their respective units. We tried to gather as many as our own outside before we went on. By then, the streets had been cleared.

"Motherfuckers pulled off something sneaky again." Sam ranted. "Should've brought my rifle." Regardless of his ranting, he was still helping us count. Eight privates...how many had shown up to the bar before and after us, and how many had left before? The bar was empty, and it'd be stupid to stay; over the dim of artillery came new sounds of what was undoubtedly small arms fire somewhere in the distance.

"What the hell is going on?" One of the privates wondered out loud, echoing my own confusion.

"Doesn't matter." Peter cut him off and turned to me. "I think these are the only ones we'll find."

"Yeah, now lets go find an armory to break open." Sam was watching the skyline, trying to find out where the fighting was. I imitated him for a few quick moments; last thing we wanted was to walk into the fighting. Luckily, the majority of the fighting seemed to have been in the West; our barracks were in the center of the Capital, which was only a few miles east.

"Let's leg it back to the barracks!" I pointed in the correct direction. No one argued and no one complain; we just started moving. As we went one way, others went the opposite way- soldiers in battle gear running alone, in pairs, in organized groups, or some twenty squished on the roof of an APC, headed directly towards the sound.

"How the hell did the fighting get here so quickly?" The same private from earlier asked. This time, someone else answered him.

"Doesn't sound the Lazurian guns..." They didn't sound sure though. But as I strained my ears, I reached the same conclusion. Those weren't Lazurian guns... they were _Rubinelle. _Of course, that didn't mean the ones firing the weapon were Rubinelle. There was no reason for any Rubinelle to do so!

"It doesn't matter, just keep walking." Peter did give them a chance to think. I didn't get a chance to either- we were practically jogging now. The district we were in wasn't very far from the barracks- just a four mile walk. But when we got closer, we slackened our pace to a walk before stopping. The small arms fire was _increasing_. How could it be increasing when it was behind us before? Especially when the area we were staying was the most densely occupied in the Capital?

"What do we do?" A private asked. Sam, Peter, and me consulted each other.

"I don't think we'll get to the barracks. We need a plan to keep ourselves safe." Peter outlined our situation. Something unexplained was rapidly unfolding. We were stuck away from our weapons and our equipment and we had to react. It wasn't anything we hadn't been trained for.

"We should find some weapons and engage the bastards shooting." Sam beat a fist in his other palm. "There's gotta be a NRA troop that'll give us some guns."

"We'd need our radios and armor if we're getting into a firefight." Peter shook his head.

"Best we can do now is wait for it to die-" An accusing voice interrupted me.

"Who are you with?!" We'd been looking at each other, and the privates looking at us. No one had noticed the group of soldiers coming up behind us, weapons drawn at us.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sam jumped back, hands raised. We all had similar reactions. I kept my hands in plain sight, all the while wondering what the hell they were doing.

"You Marines?" The leading soldier asked. It would've been a stupid question if we weren't being held at gunpoint; any military person should've been able to tell by the pattern on our uniforms. But staring back at them, or at least their guns, they didn't look like soldiers. They were older then the average soldier (especially now), and had facial hair. Despite that, they still had military grade weapons and gear. I would've been suspicious about them.

"No, Army." Peter answered first. "What's this about?" He demanded. The armed men jerked their weapons down. Some of them muttered and, without an explanation, just walked right past us.

"Hey!" Sam called after them. "Where-" Peter and me gave his shoulders a yank.

"Leave it." Peter advised. Sam looked after the retreating men in confusion like the rest of us.

"So what's the plan?" A private asked once more. The three of us returned to our conversation.

"We should just take cover and wait for the fighting to die down." I finished my interrupted sentence. At that moment, an artillery shell crashed down just a street over. We all hit the ground and covered our heads as tiny pieces of concrete and stone rained down on us. I risked looking up at the massive dust cloud how hovering above us. Who was fighting? And how was it bad enough to need artillery?

"Are we going to get out of here or what?" The private's voice sounded close to cracking. Part of me couldn't blame him; being in combat without your gear had a certain loneliness and vulnerability to it. But whatever was going on, we couldn't stay out in the open. I glanced to the buildings around us. Many in the Capital had either been transformed to perform a service or house troops though. Some though just decayed, gutted and without a purpose. A few around us were the latter, and I pointed them out.

Using hand signals- the din of fighting had gotten louder- we usher the privates to follow us into the closest one. With a roof over our head and the fighting outside at least muffled, everyone took a breather. Outside, artillery fire became as frequent as the small arms fire.

_Who _was firing of all those weapons? The Capital was miles inland from the sea. Any force would have to cross the channel, get by the Navy and Air Force, and then the several defensive lines that were (hopefully) set up between the Capital and channel. And even then, they'd have a difficult time stealing Rubinelle weapons to fight with... The more and more I talked about it, the more I realized it was likely Rubinelle soldiers firing those weapons.

But why? They couldn't have been like the raiders- there was no scourging needed in this place. But if it were indeed Rubinelle against Rubinelle, what set off the fight, and so quickly? It'd had to something extreme. Whatever it was, I couldn't figure it out just this moment. Right now, we had to focus on survival.

The minutes passed by slowly. No one spoke. Everyone just remained pressed against one of the dusty walls. Every now and then shockwaves would cause grit to rain from the ceiling, but the structure held. The volume of fire reached a maximum and then started to decrease though it stayed continuous. A few artillery shells crashed by far too close for comfort, but none close enough to collapse the building.

Outside, vehicles would roar by the store every few moments- reinforcements, most likely. Eventually, after what might've been half an hour, the fighting drew down into sporadic bursts instead of a continued fusillade. As that sound grew more distant, some of us risked standing up.

"Think its safe?" I called.

"It sounds like its drifting South." A private remarked. I glanced at Peter and Sam, and they both nodded at me. This was likely our best chance.

"Let's go, come on!" Sam called, and everyone else scrambled up. We all exited the moldy building back onto the street. Some of us recoiled when we did. "Smoke, burning wood, and shit. Definitely the aroma of a battlefield." Sam said through clenched teeth. I tried to imagine the carnage just a few blocks over, tried and vividly succeeded unfortunately. We didn't hesitate long, and took off at a full run to our barracks.

The closer we got, the stronger the stench of death got. I could always tell it was the next block or street over, but never actually saw it till we turned onto the road our barracks were on. The sight brought us up short. About thirty troops, a mixture of Marines and Army soldiers, were lying dead in the street, many near the compound gate, which had been apparently knocked down by a vehicle.

"Just in case..." Sam crept towards one of the bodies and liberated the assault rifle from its previous owner and tossed the pistol to Peter. A private skipped ahead and took the pistol and rifle off another corpse before respectfully handing the rifle to me. It was morbid, but necessary. After a minute of requisitioning, everyone in the group had a firearm of some sort.

Weapons drawn, we cautiously approached the gate. Sam was the first one to enter. _Bang_. We all ducked at the gunshot. Sam dropped too, cursing loudly and howling. It took only a second to realize he been hit. Almost immediately, someone called "Sorry!" The shooter stumbled as he ran out onto the street towards Sam. "Sorry!" He jumped and shrieked when we pointed our weapons at him.

"Don't move!" I warned and he flung his hands up. Peter had already made his way over to Sam. "He ok?" I asked anxiously. Sam was still twisting, and a small pool of blood had formed on the concrete. Peter made a quick assessment.

"It went straight through. He'll be fine if I can get some medical supplies." Satisfied, I turned my attention to the shooter. Looking at him, I realized he wasn't all that old-maybe 17.

_"Is there ANYONE else in the NRA?" _Gritting my teeth, I questioned him.

"Why the hell did you shoot him?" I demanded. He looked pale under a helmet that barely fit.

"I said I was sorry!" He repeated for the third time. "They warned me about what happened last time. I thought he was one of the Lieutenant Colonel's men. I wasn't taking any chances!" Last time? Chances? I didn't have time to figure out what it meant. Peter had taken Sam's blouse and used it to try to stop the wound, but it wasn't working so well. We couldn't move him yet either.

"Watch him." I ordered two privates with pistols, and they quickly took charge of him. I pointed to two that had rifles. "You two follow me, the rest stand guard here." The two quickly fell in behind me. In the distance, the fire seemed to be picking up again.

Alert, we entered the compound. I immediately spotted a defunct APC, and concluded it had knocked the gate down. There was no telling where the crew was. Most of the buildings in the compound were bland concrete bunkers that actually went quite a bit underground. But there was a above ground medic station near the back right corner, and that was our destination.

As we walked past the blocky gray buildings, I noticed marks where bullets had stuck the walls. Several of the bunker doors sat open. Despite the usual buzz from the hundreds of soldiers that occupied the rooms under the bunkers, not one person was to be seen. The medic station was the only building that wasn't pure concrete. All the windows had been shattered by bullets, and the wooden sign above the now empty doorway had been knocked down.

"Stand watch outside." I ordered. I stopped and peered inside the doorway. The lobby within was empty. After glancing behind the empty counter, I walked around it to the hallway that led to the actual treatment rooms. Most of them were open and deserted, and the rest locked. How and where the hell had everyone cleared out so fast?

Hopefully the supply room in the back of the building was the same. _"I gotta get back to Sam quick."_ The door wasn't opened, but it was unlocked. Keeping the rifle in front of me, I slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. I was immediately granted the sight of a Marine lying dead on the floor, a bullet in his head and a puddle of blood starting to dry on the floor. I took a step forward and stiffened when the cold barrel of a gun pressed itself against my neck. Then it suddenly pulled away.

"Corporal." I turned and found Sgt. Anson standing there with an M4 instead of his usual rifle. He lowered it and nodded at me.

"Sergeant Anson." I allowed myself to relax slightly. "Something's-"

"I know." He cut me off, and I realized stupidly he must've been taking part in the fighting. "What's the situation?" I skipped a good part of the story.

"Sam's been shot. He needs medical attention." I grabbed a medical kit from one of the shelves. At that moment, two nurses and a medical officer, who had apparently been silently hiding beneath a toppled shelf, poked their heads out.

"Stay in cover and don't leave till someone comes back." Sgt. Anson stopped them and followed me as I exited the medic station. "What happened?" He demanded again. I recounted our flight from the bar, taking cover, and finally coming here and being under fire from the nervous sentry.

"What happened here, sergeant?" I asked. When he didn't answer for a moment, I thought he wasn't going to. But he eventually forced our an answer.

"A mutiny appears to have broke out." The shock that coursed through me nearly caused me to drop the pack. We exited the building at that moment and two privates quickly fell in with us. "Positions in this part of Capital fell under sudden attack from Marines. We managed to hold them out this compound." The two privates behind us made exclamations of surprise I didn't completely catch. "Sgt. Anderson took three privates from the platoon to go investigate." By then, we'd reached the street again.

"Sgt. Anson!" Peter caught the kit when I tossed it to him. Sam was still conscious. In fact, he was still cursing. That was a good sign at least.

"Patch him up." He ordered and turned to survey the men. He glanced at the offending sentry but didn't comment.

"Sergeant Anson, should the men go get their gear?" I asked. I was surprised when he shook his head.

"It'll be chaotic out there; the risk of friendly fire is too high. We'll take cover in the barracks once Corporal Garcia can be moved."

"But sergeant, what about the rest of the platoon?"

"Sgt. Anderson is looking for stragglers. We'll have to trust the others are avoiding the fighting." Sgt. Anson turned to Peter. "Can he be moved yet, Corporal?"

"Should be." Peter confirmed.

"Yes please." Sam also confirmed it by speaking. With help from two privates, Peter helped move Sam into the compound. Sgt. Anson told the sentry to find somewhere to take cover and had him released and ordered a man to go fetch the medical personnel before ordering everyone into the barracks. I stopped and glanced in the direction the fighting was still taking place. I was starting to become confused by how fast things were developing.

"Into the bunker, Corporal. We're not meant to be involved with this." That got me moving, and I followed them all to the barracks to wait out the fighting.

_"And I thought things were messed up before we got here."_


	46. Chapter 45

XX A/N XX

I'd like to thank the user: johnterrencekelly for inspiring the beginning part of this chapter. I'd originally planned this part, but some points he raised made me expand the idea a bit past its original form. Also, I think I'll stop making predictions on distance between battles; this intermission is dragging on a lot more then I originally planned.

X James X

"A mutiny?" Lieutenant Lin's voice sounded neutral, but her look made it clear she wasn't as shocked as any of us. Even Captain Brenner seemed surprised at such a thing.

"Yes sir." Sgt. Anson confirmed. Details had been slow in coming in, but experience and rumor had turned our theory into the unbelievable truth, even though the NRA (and by extension the news networks) were keeping tight lipped about it. Sgt. Anson and Sgt. Anderson had both witnessed and repelled the first attacks on the NRA strongholds, and we'd heard details from members of our platoon who'd escaped (or in two's cases actually participated) in the fighting on top of our own escape.

Having been in the Capital at the time of the incident, we'd been called to explain as soon as the Battalion arrived. Peter, Collins, and me stood behind Sgt. Anson and Sgt. Anderson, all of us in full battle gear, while they explained it; Sam was still in medical care. He, fortunately, was the only injury.

"A whole goddamn Battalion of Marines started exchanging fire with some NRA units. NRA rushed in two Battalions and they duked it out for about three hours. The fighting got pushed back to the edge of town before B-52s leveled that part of the city." We'd seen it happen from several miles away- a sight better at home in a war zone then a Capital. From what I'd heard, they were still trying to put out some of the fires.

"The NRA forces seemed to have taken severe casualties before calling in the strike." Sgt. Anson elaborated. "It appeared that they were trying to lure the Marines into a firing zone.

"But why would they do that?!" Will asked fiercely from the side. The pale girl that always seemed to be accompanying him put a hand on his shoulder. Sgt. Anderson motioned to us to answer, since we'd been right there.

"We don't know the exact answer." Peter admitted.

"But an NRA trooper was saying something like this had happened before." I recalled the sentry's words.

"He mentioned a Lieutenant Colonel as well." Peter gave the rest of the information.

"A coup attempt with an officer at the source, most likely." Lieutenant Lin stated. "And this on top of an apparent coup at one of their ports..." She was clearly thinking. "It seems the NRA is having internal strife problems." At this, Captain Brenner crossed his arms drummed his fingers on his sleeves.

"Even if their winning this time, mutiny is still occurring..." He mused. All branches had experienced mutiny and rebellion in the ranks in the last war. It was a piece of dark history we didn't like dwelling on.

_"All of it was for the wrong reasons." _It had to be the same this time.

"Was this an isolated incident?" Lieutenant Lin pressed. Sgt. Anson nodded.

"Yeah, they were fighting against every other Marine and Soldier in the Capital. Isn't much room for a second attempt now either. The bulk of NRA units had shipped out before the battle and others after, and the ones left are all posted at the Presidential Palace." Both the Captain and the Lieutenant mulled over this.

"It may be worth asking Greyfield directly." Brenner decided.

"I doubt that will produce any results." The Lieutenant's opinion was considerably less optimistic. "I think the best thing we can do at the moment is feign ignorance- try to maintain our independence and integrity as a combat force and avoid too much contact with other units." Brenner nodded, grudgingly.

"Some of the other units are suspicious of us since we joined the war so late." He admitted. To me, that was unfair. We'd been upholding our duties as soldiers in a capacity in a different place. Then I remembered Sam. As much as I hated it, some people just saw the fighting part. "I still wonder what caused the rebellion..." That was likely a question that would never be answered...or forgotten.

"Anything else, sir?" Sgt. Anderson asked. It took the Captain a moment to snap out of his thought.

"Actually, there is something I might as well do while you're here." He uncrossed his arms. "Attention!" The sudden change of tone was unexpected, but we snapped to the position immediately. "We've decided to reorganize the Battalion once again." Captain Brenner informed us. "The dis-jointed way we've been doing since the meteors suited our mission and helped prevent friction. The last re-organization had some improvement, but if we're to compete with our enemies, we need to be even better organized then we are now."

"To this effect, we're splitting the Battalion into three separate commands." Lieutenant Lin took over from there while Captain Brenner stepped away for a moment. "My Command will be over the specially trained forces in the Battalion. You're group will be one of the three components of it, alongside the Marine Company and the various Special Forces personnel the Battalion has picked up." Captain Brenner returned with a small box in one hand and four silver insignias in the other. He stopped in front of Sgt. Anson.

"I'm appointing you as the overall commander of the platoon." We watched, stiff at attention, as the Captain pinned the 1st Lieutenant insignias on Anson's uniform caller. "You're the most decorated and experienced member, and I have no doubt you'll manage one of our key units so it is in a constantly ready and fit state.

"It will be done, sir." Lieutenant Anson assured with a salute. Next, the Captain pinned the rank insignia of a 2nd Lieutenant on Anderson's uniform collar.

"Both of you have the experience to defeat the enemy. And now you have the rank. I hope you'll use them both well."

"Yes sir." Lieutenant Anderson saluted. "Permission to ask a question sir?" He said before the Captain could continue.

"Go on." He nodded after a moment.

"Why do you still got those two silver bars on?" He asked, referring the Captain's rank insignia on Brenner's collar. "As big as this 'Battalion' has gotten, you could put a silver bird on your collar and no one would blink an eye." I realized he had a point; it was becoming more of a Brigade then a Battalion. A Colonel would be a lot more appropriate. I'd never given any real thought on that rank oddities, since they were rampant at all levels.

A smile appeared across the Captain's usually gaunt face. It was a odd sight, since he was usually serious looking. But the movement was enough to make most of the stress marks instantly disappear. He replied with a story.

"I actually decline a few promotions since it would've transferred me out of the Battalion." He revealed. "The offers eventually stopped coming, so I stayed commander of Company D. I only came to command the Battalion since the Lieutenant Colonel in charge retired and the Major after him was discharged for medical reasons about five months before the meteors. Since I was the most senior Captain, I took over temporarily with Lin helping. It was only suppose to last until a new officer came to take charge."

"Which never happened before the meteors came." Lieutenant Anderson guessed. Brenner nodded.

"So I've just been commanding since." He confirmed. "I don't intend to give myself a new rank because I don't want everyone in the Wolves to follow me blindly based on rank. I want them to follow me for the same reasons the other Captains in the Battalion before: because they trust and respect my judgment and reasoning." He stared back at Lieutenant Anderson evenly. "Does that answer your question?" Lieutenant Anderson nodded and saluted.

"Yes sir. I can guarantee you got us on your side behind you 100%." Captain Brenner smiled again and returned the salute.

"You're all dismissed. There will be a ceremony later for the rest of the Battalion at..." He glanced at his watch and frowned at the time; it could've been midnight for all we knew. He managed to finish the statement. "When its practical." He sent us off after that and went back to work. We walked out of the building, a former Post Office, that served more or less as the Battalion's HQ in the Capital. Soldiers milled around the trucks and Humvees outside; heavier vehicles usually stayed near the Capital outskirts to avoid damaging the roads. We began the walk back to our own barracks.

"Well," Lieutenant Anderson looked down into the box. "Got a couple of Sergeant and Corporal ranks in here. Some people are going to need to fill those positions." He didn't name names, but it was obvious what he meant. Peter, Collins, and me exchanged glances. Normally, Sergeants were chosen for having many years of experience and a very fierce nature when provoked. We didn't have either of those, really.

_"Sergeant..."_ I'd expected the same feeling as when I learned of my abrupt promotion to Corporal, but I felt nothing. It took me a moment to realize I actually _dreaded_ the prospect. _"Why? Advancement in every soldiers goal."_

"Never thought we'd ever make officer." Lieutenant Anderson was looking down at his collar. "Always thought we'd be stuck forever where the Defense Department put all the surviving veterans: training and commands at the bottom of the barrel while the younger generation moved up.

"It's hardly a step up." I couldn't remember any time before what Sgt. Anson had said in the helicopter back in the desert where he sounded so negative. Actually, now that I thought about it, they'd said a lot of negative comments between them since the meteors fell. I'd never really wondered what their perception of the entire thing was- seeing the world tore apart for a second time in a lifetime. Must've been rough, whatever they thought of it all...

Just a few buildings down from the Post Office was a bank. The Lazurian P.O.W.s, stripped of their uniforms and handcuffed, sat outside against the wall under the guard of a few MPs and two Humvees. Apparently, they were looking into turning it into a provision prison. It wasn't any of our business, so we passed without stopping to look. Or tried anyway.

"Hi, James!" The loud, feminine, slightly accented, sing-song voice made me flinch. The whole group ended up stopping.

"Huh?" Peter turned his head to the source, as did Collins. Lieutenant Anderson grunted in surprise. Lieutenant Anson's hand went for the pistol in his side holster. In spite of the new bright orange clothes the P.O.W.s had been given, I had no trouble recognizing that particular Naval Infantry soldier who'd called my name.

"Hi!" Lada repeated, waving at me. For some reason, I didn't immediately register what was wrong with that action before two MPs nearly crushed her in a mad dash to restrain her hand's again. Collins looked at me curiously and I was grateful for my goggles and face mask hiding my... Wait...

_"How the hell did she recognize me?!" _There was no way in hell to see my name tag from all the way over there...How?

"Isn't that one of the Lazurian casualties we treated?" Peter wondered.

"I think." I managed to keep my voice natural.

"Calm down, Riley." Lieutenant Anderson warned. Lieutenant Anson still had a hand gripping his pistol. "They're just prisoners." I was hoping we'd just keep heading back, ignoring the disturbance. I wasn't sure what the leap in my stomach was for when Lieutenant Anderson instead crossed the street to where the prisoners sat. The others followed, and I did to. I didn't notice Lieutenant Anson had stayed in the same spot. Anderson stopped in front of Lada and looked down at her. She stared back with unusual eyes.

"Wasn't your kind wiped out?" Lieutenant Anderson questioned.

"Weren't yours?" Her tone wasn't playful anymore, but accusing despite her innocent look. Lieutenant Anderson laughed.

"Unfortunately, no. Still not yet anyway." She giggled as if there was something funny about it. Some of the other Lazurian prisoners were glaring at her, and some at us. "Looks like it applies to both of our kinds then." Lada shrugged. The tone disappeared, but her voice still had an odd ring to it.

"Can't have outcasts in these times."

"Yeah. They only want you when they're against the wall." I blinked back and forth between the two of them. There were few ways they could be even more opposite from each other, and yet here they were carrying on like old friends about something I didn't quite catch. Bizarre didn't describe it. Lieutenant Anderson, apparently having heard what he wanted, turned and left without another word. After the abrupt change caught up to us, we followed him.

"Bye James!" I flinched inwardly again. It was only then that we noticed Lieutenant Anson had refused to cross the street.

"Ain't that something?" Lieutenant Anderson mused to himself as we kept walking.

"What exactly was that, sir?" I asked.

"Just a test of sorts, sergeant." I noticed, but didn't care when he referred to me by a new rank. "Those people, they always had a certain outlook of things compared to your average Lazurian, and I just wanted to see it again."

"You've talked to people like that before?" Collins asked in surprise. Lieutenant Anderson nodded.

"Those people- I forget what they call themselves- they're a different people of their own. Were living as nomads in Northern Lazuria for a long time before Lazuria even existed. They never quite got a long with Lazurians after it came too. They were always discriminated against." That fact itself was surprising. Racial strife was pretty much unheard of in each nation, defeated by nationalism.

"They started being recruited into the military a hundred years ago." Lieutenant Anson interjected that small statement. "They make unique soldiers."

"Damn terrifying is more accurate." Anderson took back over. "But yeah, they've usually been recruited as infantry and Special Forces. These people- they're at home in nature- they understand survival. More then any of the city dwellers from either countries could ever be. They made fierce fighters, good scouts, and lethal snipers." Lieutenant Anderson looked grave. "Our Battalion went through about fifty snipers in one year. Hell, by the time it ended..." He scratched his chin. "Hey Riley, it was you and some other guy who were the only original snipers still in the Brigade when things ended, wasn't it?"

"Keating." Anson supplied a name.

"Right- out of an entire _Brigade._" Anderson resumed the subject. "They're good soldiers, no doubt, but they have a different outlook on things. I never quite understood it myself." Anderson searched for words. "They still live in isolation mostly, so they aren't as brainwashed as most people." The way he casually said 'brainwashed' made me shiver for some reason. "But they don't hate our guts with a passion like other Lazurians do." To my horror and embarrassment, Anderson addressed me. "They take a fasciation with us, Coleman; you're not the first guy one of them has took an interest in. Hell, after the war a hundred or so emigrated here and settled down with some Rubinelle soldiers. I know for a fact some would sneak out of their lines in the middle of the nigh to meet with the other."

_"They weren't very good soldiers then." _I thought. "Ehh... All I did was help patch up a few of her wounds. I don't even know how she recognized me."

"Naval Infantry?" Lieutenant Anson made a surprisingly good guess. When I nodded, he elaborated. "Their scouts are training to recognize people by body shape." That explained it, but it stayed creepy in my mind.

"Well, lucky you." Collins nudged my arm and laughed. "I put this uniform on a year ago and no ones fallen for me yet." He laughed, finding it genuinely funny. Peter didn't comment. But I relaxed. They just said it was a common occurrence, hadn't they? It was nothing to worry about.

Not too long later, we'd reached the barracks again. The front gate had since been fixed, but there wasn't any extra security anymore. "Let's go wake everyone up and get re-organized." Lieutenant Anderson shook the box containing the insignias again. "I think some people are experienced enough now to take a Corporals position."

"Some of the coastguard personnel may be ready for a sergeant position." Anson put in. I had to agree with him; they'd become true foot soldiers since they joined us.

"Ok then, lets get to it." Lieutenant Anderson declared. "The Captain says we need to be ready for bigger threats, and I think he's right. The last fighting of a war is always the worst."

X Tim X

I yawned and let the hot shower wake me for another day and another problem. That's what it felt like anyway. At least it wasn't a personal problem today. _"The worst kind." _Today would just be boredom to deal with, not another therapy session.

I was still embarrassed about the session yesterday. Even if that shit was confidential, I didn't even want one person to know that stuff. But the session stayed in my mind for another reason. Your brain has a funny choice of timing for realizations, like the middle of the night (day?) for instance.

Lying in bed thinking about nothing in particular, I had a sudden realization: our relationship _had_ _already_ _changed_, drastically, a couple of times and I'd just gone along with it without any trouble. Why would another time be any different? The kid thing. That was probably the only reason I was noticing change and objecti... being uneasy I mean...about the whole thing.

It was like Sarah wearing the girly clothes in everyday life: I couldn't seriously picture it in my head. Only in this case it wasn't funny, the picture refused to form at all. I didn't necessarily hate kids, per say, I just thought it a bad idea at this time.

Yesterday's incident (I didn't know what the hell it was, but it had been bad, which was all I needed to know) just reinforced this point: the world was too dangerous. No matter where you were, you could get killed. Aside for that, there were the food and supplies shortages, and there weren't going to be many jobs but hard labor for a couple of decades at the least. Not to mention safety; if women couldn't even be alone for a second without losing their pants, how the hell could a kid keep safe? It would be counter-productive to have a kid...though only practically. Mentally...

Could that be the root of the problem? I kept asking myself without getting an answer. I probably should've asked the therapist about that, now that I thought about it. I'd have to investigate some other way.

Whistling, I stopped the shower and stepped out. I walked out a minute later dry and dressed. Sarah was still in bed, fidgeting under the covers. I walked over and placed a light hand on her shoulder. The fidgeting immediately stopped.

"You're hard to please, you know that? Every decade or so something has to change to make you happy again." She didn't hear me. I rubbed her back for a bit then headed out to the kitchen. She'd started to fidget again by the time I returned holding a warn bagel. I sat down and rubbed her back again and she stopped. After a minute of that, she stirred and raised her head, blinking.

"Morning." I said as she sat up. She grabbed the half-eaten bagel out of my hand and ate the rest for herself.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" She fretted when she noticed I was already dressed. "Kim could be over any minute!" I snorted, having expected this. Oh I'd thought of it. Why not? She could've joined me in the shower. But I'd wanted a few minutes to myself to think.

_"So much for my man card." _What man had to make a decision like that? "You looked nice in your sleep." My excuse got a light slap on the head. "You're welcome." I called as she walked towards the bathroom. "Women..." I went to get a new bagel and headed back into the living room. Sarah came back out at about the same time and picked the warm bagel from my hand before I could take a bite.

"Thanks." She said sweetly before she started sorting through clothes. I threw my hands up in mock frustration and went to get another bagel. When I'd come back she was laying some less colorful clothes then usual to wear- jeans and a plain shirt.

"No skirts?" I raised an eyebrow. Sarah shrugged.

"I need to wash them." She explained. "Aside from that, they're a pain to get off, and Kim won't be the only one trying on new clothes today." She elaborated. I snorted.

"Since when again do you operate a dating service?" I asked, sitting back on the bed.

"I don't." Sarah countered. "I'm just there for support. It's a very important job." I rolled my eyes.

"As much as you care about her, I'd think you were having an affair is I didn't know any better." She rounded on me proceeded to slap me with a bra.

"Pervert!" She continued to assault me with it, but it didn't hurt and she was laughing the whole time. "I swear, you're becoming a pig again." She accused.

"It's an simple observation." I said when she stopped to attack.

"We're _girls_." She put emphasis on the word. "Female friends are allowed to be close."

"Oh yeah?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." She said as it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Guys have to worry about preserving their masculinity and opposite gender friends have to worry about sexual tension. But two female friends can be more intimately acquainted because they don't have to worry about either of those." She held up the article of underwear threateningly. "Only _some_ people try to make it look dirty."

"No, I just don't understand women." She smiled at my excuse. _"That's another thing on the list."_

"You were probably the only guy back at the old base who didn't get some stupid fantasy in his head about what Kim and me did when we were alone." Her suggestive smile made my face heat up for some reason. "Anyway, Kim and me are close, but not like that." She could've tortured me further, but stopped and sat down next to me.

"I could've swore you hated each other at one point." That seemed an eternity ago. Sarah kneaded her hands in her lap, embarrassed.

"The first few weeks were more or less like that." She admitted. "I was doing my best to make her uncomfortable and she was bickering with me a lot."

"Oh, yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah." Sarah confirmed. "Kim's one of those conservative types, so I really got under her skin and we had a few arguments even when I wasn't trying to purposely annoy her." She did an impressive mimic of Kim's voice. "'Don't swear like that, please put some pants on, that's a private subject, don't follow me.'" She went back to her normal voice. "Things thawed out eventually though. She realized she needed to adapt to the outside world and I... well, you know why." She trailed off. I gave her a pat on the back.

"Nothing wrong with that." I said. Sarah got up and stretched.

"I'm going to go take a shower." She announced. "If Kim comes, just tell her to wait here for me." She kissed me on the cheek then headed back to the bathroom. I laid down on the bed and picked up the T.V. remote. I started flicking through the channels. Since Sarah was going to be gone all day, I had to find something to do with myself. It was likely that none of the guys from the orphanage were here yet, so there wasn't much a point in going drinking. That left TV.

I'd stopped on one of the thousands of old war movies there were and watched it for about fifteen minutes before there was a knock on the door. Grunting, I got up and walked down the small hallway to the door and yanked it open. Like Sarah, Kim had shunned fancy clothes for something bland and simple.

"Hey." She greeted with a cheery wave. "Is Sarah awake yet?"

"Shower." I stepped back to let her inside. "She'll be out soon." Kim came in silently and I walked back to the bed while she just leaned against the kitchen counter. It was only a few seconds before she tried to start a conversation.

"So how is Sarah doing now that you guys are in therapy?" Like Sarah, she apparently had a knack for finding the worst possible thing to discuss.

"...We're making progress." I grunted.

"I'm glad." Kim went on. "She's a good person, but she does have some faults."

"_Everyone_ has something wrong with them." I informed her. "You're-

"A mature and intelligent grown up." She cut me off and put her hands on her hips. "Thank you very much." Her unexpected butting in temporarily stunned me about as much as the fact she anticipated what I'd say. Well, Sarah had definitely made progress with her.

"Maybe there is some truth to that." I admitted; training did get rough sometimes. How some of the people we'd met ever made it through was something I'd never understand. Kim nodded, smirking like she'd won the war. "But next to Sarah you don't know anything." That might have caused more arguing, but for a wonder it didn't.

"That's why I like her so much." Kim actually agreed with me. "Some lessons I can do without, but most of what she knows is helpful. I just feel sorry for how she learned them."

"Don't be. She doesn't want any pity." I warned. _"And neither do I."_

"I know that she can take care of herself." Kim said. "I just think she'd be a lot better off if none of it had happened." It stuck an uncomfortable cord of truth in my gut. Then again, where would Sarah and me, especially me for that matter, be in that case? Helping Sarah had been the only thing to keep me grounded to earth when everyone around us seemed in a competition to see who could become the biggest fuck up before they turned twenty.

"Fate it fate." I waved a hand dismissively. "All you can do is make the best of what it does to you." Kim didn't disagree with me. Instead, she changed the subject back and attacked me.

"Just because you have more experience in life doesn't mean everyone younger then you is a child." She spoke as if I'd offended her. Maybe I had every time I called them kids. Well tough luck for them, because it was the truth. If not literally, it still applied in experience and intelligence.

"You all might as well be kids." I waved her off.

"How so?" She challenged.

"Because you never shut up." I meant for that to effectively end the discussion, but it quickly became clear Kim wasn't intimidated. _"I'm losing on every front!"_

"Back to what I was saying, I'm happy for Sarah. Something always seemed off about her. She's really brave to confront it all." I gave a casual nod of my head to avoid admitting out loud she was right. Then, for whatever reason, I decided to contribute.

"Braver then you know kid." Thankfully, other aspects of our past were a secret. "She's survived more then what most people could."

"She thanks you for it. She never shuts up about you, in fact." Kim cocked her head to side and looked at me. "None of us ever understand why, though." The mood changed like a blown light bulb. Kim didn't look conversational now, she looked like an interrogator.

"You don't need to." I said defensively. "What's it to you, anyway?"

"Just curiosity." Kim explained. "Sarah's always been such a nice person aside from a few...differences. But you're a..."

"Asshole?" I guessed. She blushed.

"Not a nice word, but yeah. And yet Sarah always talked about like you were the nicest guy in the world. She always insists you just don't want to be nice to other people and that she's trying to fix it." As soon as she finished that, I began to suspect I'd been suckered into a trap. Both of them criticizing me for being anti-social being coincidental? Seemed far fetched.

I was saved from telling her off when Sarah came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. "Morning." She greeted Kim. "You can wait in the hall, I'll be out when I'm dressed." She watched Kim leave and then turned to me once the door closed. "You two have a nice conversation?" She smirked at me.

"I think I'm the target of a conspiracy." Sarah laughed.

"You're tough guy act doesn't fool people anymore. Everyone is wondering why you even bother with it still. And Kim just wants to be taken seriously." The last came out as an accusation.

"I ain't convinced just yet." I shrugged. Unfortunately, Sarah seemed to consider that progress and nodded in approval.

"I told her you'd thaw." Sarah dropped the towel and began to dress. "Was Kim asking about me?" She changed the subject.

"We talked about you." I parroted the conversation back to her. Sarah smiled.

"Her constant perkiness can be annoying, but she is a caring and intelligent woman. She's nosy too, but I can't really call her out on it since I get into her business." Sarah tucked in her shirt and turned around. "How do I look?" She asked.

"Like an evil mastermind." I reached out and pulled her onto my lap by her belt. "I should just keep you here so you can't cause anymore trouble."

"You-" Her eyes glinted mischievously. "Trust me, I would do something a lot more elaborate if I wanted." She warned.

"I know." I rolled my eyes in defeat and let her go. "You look great. You two go have a 'normal friendship' as you put it."

"Pervert." She leaned in and kissed me and jumped up. "We'll be back!" I waited until the door closed to start laughing. What was I laughing at? Hell if I knew. I finally stopped and laid back town.

"Ah, damn it." But I wasn't really complaining. You'd think people would be a lot more tense about a time of change in their life. But I was starting to find part of it actually kind of funny, even enjoyable; I could barely get mad about it anymore. And Sarah was acting almost like a little kid again.

"Let's see..." I decided to look at my outlook on the whole scenario again.

I _did_ enjoy our new found freedom. We were nearly as close as we were when we were teenagers, though not quite as mushy or...touchy about it. It be the same more or less once we were out of the military. And since experienced pilots were nearly non-existent, we could find good paying jobs. In short, a civilian life would be just fine. I didn't really have anything to be tense about; it was good prospective compared to other people.

The only reason I went back between reluctance and acceptance was the whole kid thing. The only good thing I could see to it was making Sarah feel better. But that wasn't convincing enough; like I'd said, food shortages and safety and all that shit. How it made logical sense in her mind was beyond me.

"Complete honesty..." I repeated to myself. I could just out right ask her about it. It sounded stupid in my head: _"I know you want this, but I think you're crazy. Convince me otherwise." _Then again, so had the therapy idea...

_"Go big or go home."_ Maybe I would just outright ask her; bluntness had always been a keystone of our relationship. Besides that, what did I have to lose on it? Worst case scenario, Sarah made sure I can't get anyone knocked up ever. Best case... Well, I'd discover what was under that bridge when I got to it.


	47. Chapter 46

X Author's Note X

Meant to get this up earlier. But I've been getting ahead of myself again, writing the next five chapters. Why the influx? I got accepted to a university not too long ago, and I know once I get there my time allotted to writing will be severely restricted. So, I'm trying to get as much as I can get done now, though obviously I won't be able to complete the story before August.

I'd like to extend a thanks to user: **johnterrencekelly****,** whose been supportive of the trilogy for a while now, and is serving as a proofreader. He asked if he could write a scene in which an OC he submitted appears, and out of appreciation I allowed it. The last scene in this chapter is 97% his own work. Like the OC from **CO Raven,** it's part of a little side plot in the other two legs.

X James X

I paced up and down the line, observing each individual with sharp eyes. Their stillness probably would've been the same even if I wasn't wearing three chevrons on my collar, but rank was rank— you respected it. The previous members of my squad were still here, holding their weapons high and staring straight ahead with determination. That might have had something to do with the PFC insignias—a corporal insignia in Karst's case— which they now all wore.

I then moved on to Rockefeller, who was newly promoted as a corporal. Despite his age and size, the new second fire team leader gave no sign of resentment. He had the same constant air of mild seriousness when not in combat. That was good; I could see why Lieutenant Anson had chosen the machine-gunner as a Corporal. From there, I moved on to the three other soldiers who were now part of my squad.

Andrew Mills was one of them, being somewhere about 24. He claimed he'd been home on spring break from a university when the meteors fell. He had a good build for a soldier, and I'd seen him on a firing range with an M16 numerous times. He was good, no doubt about it. When I asked him why he had decided to join, he replied: "I'll be a lot more helpful with a gun than a minor in physics." It was a good answer. I nodded approvingly and moved to the next soldier.

Mark Satterfield was an oddity compared to the volunteers that had formed the group, who were mostly young. He was, and looked, 32. He'd been a banker before, and was still a bit 'wide' even after a year. So my question was out of curiosity as well for the sake of evaluation. He responded honestly and quickly. "Well, sergeant," he said while patting the M4 he was now carrying, "I figured my skills wouldn't be useful anymore, so I decided I needed to get a new set. You were looking for recruits, and it was work. Dangerous work, but work." It was not the type of motivation I'd personally want in a soldier, but he'd been honest and we never had problems with him, so I nodded and moved on; you couldn't get everything you wanted, especially in people.

By sheer coincidence, the only other female in the platoon was the final addition to my squad. Pauline Wetherby had a name that someone would usually picture as an elderly person, but she was about three years my junior and looked like it as well. But she looked just as threatening with an M4 as Lieutenant Anderson did with a machine gun. When I asked her the same question I asked to the two soldiers earlier, she responded: "Nothing is going to get better on its own." I liked that answer and nodded in agreement.

Once more, I stepped back and observed them all. They were soldiers, no doubt about it, and battle-hardened ones at that. It was hard to remember how young they were by just looking at them. They stared back straight ahead, patient and expecting.

"All right, I don't have any big speech." I started, since I didn't. "I just want to say a few things; we've made it a long way on our own against hard odds. None of you had to be here and endure it, but you chose to." Every soldier did; that's why they were respected. "And I want to say this as well; we all _will _come home alive." That was all my recent feelings, compressed into two sentences.

"Hooah!" I hadn't expected the response, but I nodded.

"Right." I then went over the plan of the day. "There's a meeting for all senior personnel in the Battalion within two hours." I informed them. Aside from the lieutenants, all of the new sergeants except Sam would be going. "This meeting will be about major changes in the Battalion's structure. So today's a sort of 'free day' for you. But," I put emphasis on the word. "I want everyone to have their equipment in proper order and to be ready for whatever changes that may affect us, got it?"

"Yes, sergeant!" They all said as one.

"All right. Dismissed!" They all fell out of the line and returned to whatever business they'd been earlier. My first instance of being a sergeant... I kind of liked it. Kind of. Quickly, I got moving; I had things of my own to attend to. The meeting place was a fair walk away, and it had been decided to leave earlier than later. About half an hour later, I stepped outside the compound, which thankfully now looked a lot more normal. Three others were waiting for me.

"James." Peter greeted. I greeted him in return.

"Riddoch. Mellor." I nodded to the other two older sergeants, and they both greeted me in return as well. Both men looked relatively similar to each other, at least in uniform. Even after a year on the ground, they still had a weathered look on their faces. They had both been at the same Coast Guard station, each leading a boarding team that helped inspect and safeguard Rubinelle waterways. A few months after the meteors struck, both men found the shelter and had brought along what was left of men at the station and the civilian workers who'd survived. "Feels nice being an Army sergeant, isn't it?" I asked. Both of them grinned at me.

"I'd be a liar if I ever said I wanted to be a ground pounder." Riddoch patted his uniform. The main reason we'd taken all of them into our own unit was that they had some form of air assault training, something that couldn't be easily re-created for convenience. "But it's a more rewarding job, that's for sure." Most of the training we'd given them put more emphasis in tactics than weaponry; all of them were pretty damn good with a pistol and small arms.

"Now we're finally equal." Mellor had shared some of his men's resentment after being subordinated to younger soldiers and trained 'militia' as they'd first called them. But he seemed genuinely glad about it now.

"Yeah." Peter agreed. "Most people don't even remember that they came from different units or even branches now."

_I guess that's human nature__, I thought_. People who didn't like an idea would eventually be get used to it if they were exposed to it long enough. It was how basic training had worked.

Lieutenant Anderson showed up a minute later, talking with Sam. We weren't sure if the latter's annoyed expression was caused by the conversation, or by the heavy amount of bandages wrapped around his shoulder. As they came closer, it became clear it was the former.

"Bed rest, sergeant." Lieutenant Anderson ordered with a tone of finality. Sam scowled.

"Shot by my own people..." He muttered and walked off. Then, while flinging his good arm in the air, he shouted out loud: "Bullshit!" Lieutenant Anderson shook his head and turned back to us.

"Everyone good?" We all nodded. "All right, let's just wait for Riley and Collins." Lieutenant Anson showed up first, and he asked where Collins was. He showed up about two minutes later, saying that there had been some sort of dispute between two members of his squad that he had to sort out. Both lieutenants accepted his explanation, and then we finally got moving.

"So what do you figure this're-organization' is about?" Riddoch asked. With their new ranks, the two former Coast Guard men could speak more freely.

"Probably gearing us up for the channel." Lieutenant Anderson responded. "Marine Corps got so stretched out in the last war, they started relying on the Army for channel fighting. We had to get extra training and re-arrange out unit structures. I think Lazuria isn't going to be stepping here again, which means we have to go to them." It was a satisfactory answer, and conversation was light during our walk.

We weren't the only troops in the street; several newly-ordered patrols passed by us on the way over. Some were just infantry teams walking down the street, but we saw an old, rusty Sheridan light tank doing a patrol as well. The NRA was on edge after the attempted mutiny. Most of them glanced at us, but none of them stopped us.

Once we got near the 12th Battalion headquarters though, we were redirected by a few sentries. Apparently, the 12th Battalion had moved its command post to an old hotel a few miles away in the outer edge of the city. We were suddenly grateful we'd left early because it meant more walking.

"I didn't think the Captain was much for flare." Collins said as we saw the new headquarters. It was a rather large hotel, which we estimated had about thirty floors. We saw a lot more before we even got there. Being on the outskirts of the city, heavy armor was allowed on the roads here. These were largely taken up by our Abrams, and their crews were either working on them or simply milling in groups around their machines. As a result, he had to inch a long and climb over a few obstacles to reach the HQ.

The large iron gate that occupied the entrance was now guarded by soldiers, who let us through. The stone pathway up to the hotel's main door was old-fashioned, but far from decayed. In the grass to either side of the pathway, anti-air tanks sat where large show gardens had once been, and the Battalion's War Tank was parked near the building entrance. It may have been a luxury hotel once, but it lost appeal once you saw in up close. Before going inside, we stopped to observe a spectacle in front of the War Tank.

There were several people standing in front of it. Closest was a captain and two lieutenants—the company commanders—and the two sergeants, the corporal, and the private who operated the behemoth. Opposite them were four individuals wearing the unusual uniforms of the 'Royal Guard' brigade. I felt my stomach drop slightly. Since they knew for certain we had a War Tank, they'd obviously be curious.

"And uh...what caliber do the cannons have?" One of the NRA soldiers looked down at his clipboard and up at the crew.

"120mm high-explosive shells." The corporal of the crew answered confidently. "Haven't found any since, but she came with a decent reserve of them. Plus, the guns can be modified! Can take a few rounds out of an Abrams and fire them. Won't be as powerful, but the armor will still protect you." The NRA observer wrote that all down.

"Is that an M240 or M2 at the top?" He pointed up at the comparatively tiny machine gun at the monster's tip.

"240." One of the sergeants answered. "But we saw models with miniguns instead." After writing that down, the NRA man spoke.

"And you still claim that raiders and illegal militia had these machines?" His tone made it clear that he thought it was a load of trash, but the entire crew nodded vigorously.

"Hell, ask those boys, they were there too." After the sergeant pointed us out, the NRA soldiers finally noticed our presence. Before he asked, Lieutenant Anderson spoke.

"No mistake, those were the same. Not sure if they got looted from an armory or if Lazuria just gave them it to raise hell, but they were there." The last possibility was one I'd never considered, not when everything they had had been looted from Rubinelle military stores or civilian sources. Evidently, the NRA man hadn't either. He scratched his chin and wrote that down.

While the conversation went on, one of the NRA men had detached from his group and started to climb the machine. He must've missed one of the hand-holds, because the next moment he was flailing his arms in the air before hitting the muddy ground hard. Although everyone else flinched and one of the 12th Battalion lieutenants went to help the luckless man, one of his NRA companions just muttered: "Get up, you damn idiot."

The lieutenant pulled up the soldier, who now had several teeth missing and blood running down his front. He wearily stumbled back to his group. The conversation continued as if nothing had happened.

_"Why aren't they requesting a medical team?"_

"Max speed?" They seemed to care more about the tank.

"She can get to 40 on flat ground." The private answered. The conversation was likely to go on, so Lieutenant Anson ushered us on into the building. A squad of soldiers received us.

"You guys are the last to arrive." We were informed.

"It was a long walk." Lieutenant Anderson explained.

The corporal in charge shrugged. "You'll be under Lieutenant Lin, so head into the 3rd meeting room. There's a map near the front counter." As we stepped past them into the lobby, a few of us whistled softly.

"Fancy place." I observed. Several personnel from the Air Wing were milling around the large lobby in dusty but ornate furniture. A large crystal chandelier that no longer shined hung from above.

"Still wonder why they moved shop here." Peter thought out loud as we walked down one of the hallways to where the meeting rooms were. All of them were occupied, but ours was the least crowded—there were only twelve people in it, including ourselves. Four were Marines: a captain, two lieutenants, and a sergeant. The last three represented the Special Forces personnel that had found their way to the Battalion since: a platoon's worth of Rangers, a few Green Berets, and a pair of SEAL's. They served mostly as regular infantry; it seemed like things would be different after today.

Introductions were made. The Marine captain introduced himself first. "Captain Lionel, formerly of the 44th Marine Regiment and provisional commander for the Marine elements here." He exchanged handshakes with our lieutenants.

"Nice to meet the man behind some of the fiercest combat I've seen." Anderson said. The Marine grinned.

"We have a reputation for a reason, and we fully intend to hold it up." He almost made it sound like a threat; I wouldn't have been surprised if it was. Next, we were introduced to the Ranger lieutenant.

"Lieutenant Park." He extended his hand. "Highest ranking special operations soldier here, so I'm in charge of our motley ." I wondered how they'd managed till now. Rangers were trained for fierce, quick strikes while the Green Berets were meant for unconventional warfare. The SEAL's were wild cards. Different jobs, different branches, different numbers. It must've been a hard patch job. They both had kind words for us as well.

"It was nice to know you guys had the enemy pinched back in the desert battle. Just getting past those bridges was a pain." Captain Lionel admitted.

"Yeah. Having the enemy turn their head helps a lot." Lieutenant Park conceded. We probably would've gone on for a while exchanging talk on tactics, capabilities, and accomplishments, but the Lieutenant stepped in at about that moment. Without an order, we all found seats and seated ourselves. The Lieutenant walked right past us anyway.

"You are here to be briefed on the changes that will be made to the Battalion in the upcoming days." She said tonelessly as she stepped onto the stage. "I expect to have to say this only once."

"Yes sir!" We all echoed as one.

"It was decided to form this separate command to take advantage of the secondary talent you all posses—fighting behind enemy lines." Lieutenant Lin explained. "This long-overdue reorganization will help us combat an enemy that matches us much more in capability, training, and morale. Separate missions have all been devised for all three groups in a combat scenario."

_Talk about a real capable officer__, I thought__._ I'd probably had that thought before, but I never stopped being surprised at how a trio (if rumors I'd overheard from the tankers outside were to be believed, Will had been handed one of the three new commands) of Army officers managed to efficiently manage resources and weapons far outside their own field. She turned to Lieutenant Park.

"Your focus will be to disrupt the supply and communication lines of enemy units advancing to the front. If the circumstances dictate, your platoon will be ordered to do surgical strikes on important targets behind enemy lines. A helicopter will be permanently assigned for your use." Next, she turned to Captain Lionel. "Your Marines will cooperate with our naval assets in order to open up a second front behind enemy lines to draw their resources. Should the need arise, your company will be responsible for securing a beachhead for Army units to land." Finally, she turned to Lieutenant Anson. "Your platoon will use your helicopters to open up a second front behind enemy lines as well, or to assist the Marines in seizing a beachhead. You will also be called on to perform search and rescue operations for any of our other units." She then addressed all the assembled officers. "Any questions?" The presentation was blunt, simple, and straight to the point, so no hands went up.

"The redistribution of equipment as well as personnel reassignments begins tomorrow and will last three days at the most. You may return to your barracks. Have all equipment ready to be turned in tomorrow morning. Dismissed!" We cleared out of the room quickly while the other officers scattered to round up their men.

As if he read our thoughts, Lieutenant Anderson remarked, "Forget colonel, in the last war, only a brigadier-general would command an outfit like this."

"We'll have to re-train." Lieutenant Anson stated. "A refresher course for our original members will be needed as well." We didn't object. I couldn't deny we'd gotten rusty in some aspects.

"Yes sir." Lieutenant Anderson agreed. "If we're about to get into anything like the last war, it'll be pretty damn ugly."

"What type of training, sir?" Peter asked.

"As far as combat goes, everyone's as good as any of these veteran outfits." Collins stated. The lieutenants didn't say he was wrong.

"Not quite sure." Lieutenant Anderson admitted. "We don't have much time, but we've got to make some improvements. I don't intend to let this unit go through a 30% casualty rate per mission, like what happened during the Great War." All of us sergeants exchanged glances; 30% would be catastrophic by any standard. If we lost that many of our men, we'd be combat ineffective. That was NOT going to happen; I said as much to my new squad.

I was going to make it back here, and I was willing to do whatever proved necessary to do just that.

X Tim X

"Hmm." Leaning on my shoulder, Sarah twirled the new rank insignia in her hand. "Who would've thought of it?" she asked. The silver bar in my hand had been shined so thoroughly it gleamed in the light. I rubbed my thumb over it to smudge it a few times, then immediately wiped the marks off it on my shirt.

"Still seems like a useless gimmick to me—what use is rank nowadays?" But I didn't discard the first lieutenant insignia. The reorganization announcement we'd gotten a few hours ago wasn't surprising, but that they were promoting just about everyone in the Battalion was something else entirely. Getting promoted had been a joke when we were in the Air Force; we'd never been considered due to 'disrespecting superiors' or having 'unproductive attitudes'. Well screw them; I got mine based purely on combat ability. That's how it should've been. When I said as much, Sarah retorted:

"Now if only _you_ judged people on their abilities rather than their personalities." I'd walked right into that one.

"You never miss a chance, do you?" I asked. She always wanted to keep me thinking.

"No, I don't." She stood up and stepped away from the wall we were leaning on. "Look at everyone." She motioned to the lobby in front of me where all the other people in the Air Wing, pilots and ground crews, were milling around talking about the new ranks they'd gotten in the promotion ceremony just a few minutes ago. The Battalion had borrowed a small hotel as its new base of operations for both the free housing and the fact there was room to do big ceremonies and briefings. From what I understood, there were similar ceremonies going on for the ground troops, the Navy folks, and some new outfit the Battalion was forming.

"What about them?" I looked from the bomber crews who were chatting excitedly (even the brat looked normal for a change), to where Darren was showing his new rank to anyone unfortunate enough to be visible, and where Eddie and Kim was sharing a chair talking about something. "I get along with them during battles, and at least halfway decently off duty."

"You could get along with them better. You said you'd give it a try and you've been flip-flopping on the issue for a while now," she reminded me pointedly.

"Hey, I've had a lot of other bulls...stuff to consider. Excuse me for prioritizing and not moving as fast as you." She deflated.

"No, you're right." She admitted. "I'm sorry." This exchange was starting to become too familiar between the two of us. We'd pretty much stopped completely on some issues. Something decisive was in order for us to get anywhere. Fortunately, I knew what one of those 'some things' could be and had planned for it. Unfortunately, it was on the most sensitive subject. But I had a good opportunity to tackle it right now.

"Hey Sarah, you mind coming out in the back with me for a minute?" The backdoor led to a stairway in an alley. It was a private enough place. There was supposed to be a big meeting for all Air Wing personnel to attend in twenty minutes; enough time for us to have a conversation, and a good enough reason for the others to not bother leaving and finding us.

"Why?" Sarah asked, curious now rather than embarrassed. It WAS an unusual request. "What's out back?"

"Just somewhere private." It took me a moment to realize how that might've sounded. "Just something I want to say where no one will hear."

"Okay." She shrugged. "Lead the way."

"Come on then." I said, sweating inwardly a bit now that there was no turning back. I turned and walked down the nearest hallway with Sarah following behind. I walked slowly to give myself time to go over everything I'd considered saying since my decision. Still, we reached the back door, technically an emergency fire door, earlier than I hoped. The back alley was cramped, the pavement was cracked, and the stale smell was quite annoying, but it was certainly private.

"So why drag me here?" Sarah crossed her arms expectantly.

"Sit." I motioned to the steps and sat down myself. I glanced around and nodded in satisfaction; the alley was completely deserted. Sarah sat down beside me and looked at me curiously. _"__All right, man the fuck up and just say it." _Hopefully what I had planned to say would work. "I wanted to talk to you about this whole 'kid' thing." I watched for her reaction and saw that her eyes dimmed and her expression became more like a statue. She scooted over to the other side of the stairs and leaned on the railing.

"Go on." Her voice was toneless. Well, that was encouraging. I plowed on.

"Let me just start by saying I'm not against the change in lifestyle—we've done it before. But it was always just us two then. This is entirely different territory, and I realized that's why I haven't made my mind up yet." Her expression softened slightly.

"I can understand that. We can work on it now that you've said it." So far so good. Now for the hard part.

"I dragged you out here because... I wanted to ask you something." I faltered for only a moment. "I want to know why you're so crazy about this whole kid thing." Once that was out, the rest came at least ruggedly. "I'm just not seeing any sense in it what with the way things are now and will be for a good few years. And...Well... I'm starting to think you only want it so badly because you couldn't before." It was now said and done; I just had to wait for her response.

I looked at Sarah. She stared back at me evenly without a change in expression for what might've been a minute. It made me uncomfortable enough that I looked away. I could feel her staring at the back of my head for another minute after that too. When I dare glanced back, her expression was still the same. What was she thinking? I watched cautiously when she extended an arm, stopped it in front of my face, and promptly flicked my nose.

"So you _do _think I'm crazy, you liar!" She gave me a playful slap across the face. "You said you thought I was fine!" I hadn't expected a reaction like this, so I didn't respond before she went on. "I don't want reassurances, I want honesty." Then she really did slap me. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to be noticed. "Keep that in mind." She warned.

"... Okay..." I said slowly. When I realized I wasn't at risk for getting punched (or worse), I eased up. "And I'm not saying you're crazy! I'm just looking for a little perspective on it, that's all."

"Suuuure." She rolled her eyes and scooted back over to lean on my shoulder. "Look, I can understand these worries, but I think we could overcome them."

"Are you really sure though, or just hoping?" I asked.

"Completely sure. I've thought about this for a while. Go ahead, ask me about any problem." I'd intended to grill her for answers on troubling questions anyway. If she'd give them willingly, that was even better.

"For one, you really think you could survive even carrying a child?" That stayed damn near the top of the list. It was the same that I felt regarding the surgery—I could not, did not want to, and would not lose her, especially over something that wasn't necessary.

"I'm not too old to do it, and I don't think it would cause complications. Women have been doing this for a damn long time, even before we had the medicine we had today." She pointed out. "If something does absolutely go wrong, I'll..." She faltered. "There are clinics still that..." She was unraveling fast, so I stopped her there.

"I'm just worried for your health, okay? As long as you're careful about the whole thing..."

"Of course." She nodded quickly. "If I have to, we can go on, just the two of us... but I still want to try, you know?" She pulled herself together. "The same goes for the surgery—I wouldn't suggest it if I had doubts. I wouldn't endanger myself on it. You believe me, don't you?" She watched for an answer.

"I believe you." I gave her a reassuring hug. "Hell, it's not like our life expectancy is any better where we are now." She smiled.

"That's why I keep saying that I want to hold off anything serious until the fighting ends." Sarah reminded me. "What else are you worried about?"

"Can we even provide for a child in this world? Food is still kind of short, and don't babies get sick real easily?"

"I could feed a baby for two years without worrying about food." She motioned to her chest. "These aren't just here for you, you know. And a child won't get sick if it's looked after constantly and properly." It was obvious that, if we ever went through with this, she would never take her eyes off her child—and I doubted if she ever could.

"Okay...that's one down." Saying as much felt like a headache finally going away, for some reason. "Next question..." It took me a moment to remember the points I'd laid out. "Do you still really think we can manage something like that? We have no experience whatsoever. And don't blab to me about maternal instincts." She closed her mouth for a moment before opening it again.

"I think we can." Sarah insisted. "It'd be difficult at first, but we'd get by." Then, she tried a different tactic. "A lot of the whores back at the orphanage managed to raise babies just fine, and I'm pretty sure we're smarter than them."

"Yeah, you're goddamn right there." I admitted. It took me a few moments to get the courage to ask the next question. "Hypothetically, what type of uh... parents," the word tasted weird in my mouth, "would we be exactly? We're not your average couple, and our values are considered fucked up at the very least. Kids take after their parents—that's why the world is full of idiots." That question got under her skin, and she sat up.

"I think we can change." She stared at the back wall of the next building instead of at me. "Or we can try, at least. Besides, we turned out okay."

_The way things are now, 'okay' just means you aren't dead yet. _But she'd answered, so I moved on. "Explain it to me again why you want this so bad." I kind of felt bad that this was turning into an interrogation, but it was necessary in my mind. "You've gotten goddamn fanatical about it, and I honestly think—" I nearly faltered saying it "—that you only want this so bad because you couldn't before." She moved back over and stood up.

"I won't lie. That is a small part of the reason." That would've been a cause for alarm for anyone else, but I took it in stride. "Part of it is because settling down is something normal people do. Kim and Sofia have been talking about it, and so was Lucretia before she got killed. And I already told you part of it is because I want to care for someone who won't judge me."

"Why would you want to care for another person?" I asked.

"Because," she looked embarrassed. "I want to leave a mark on the world. I don't like obscurity anymore."

"Oh." I wasn't sure how to respond to that one; staying out of the spotlight was something we'd always done. "I can get that—what better mark than another person... Err... Go on."

"Well..." She sat back down awkwardly. "I also want a family because it'd be proof."

"Proof of what?"

"Proof of us." She leaned back on my shoulder. "Something to show off to the world." That sounded like her old self.

"Well... that IS a good reason." I admitted. Most of the apprehension I'd had at the start of this conversation had faded. "Anything else?" She shook her head.

"Anymore questions?"

"Just two more." I was surprised how fast we'd resolved all the other ones. I might have been overthinking this, but I needed reassurance too. "What about us?" I asked. "If we go along with this idea of yours, it'd change things. We wouldn't see each other as much because I'd have to get a job," an idea that wasn't that revolting anymore, "and you'd be at home all day caring for a kid." That got under her skin too.

"We got along with it well enough after we'd joined the Air Force. It was only the first few months that were bad. And it's not like we'll be that far apart." She sounded confident about that. Who could be sure though? But she seemed to be, and that was good enough for me for now at least. "What's your last question?"

"Will this really make you happy?" I asked. She smirked.

"I already _am_ happy. I'll still be happy even if we don't do this. I'll be happier if we do; I think you will be too. It's that simple."

"Huh. Lot of things must seem simple to you huh?" She slapped me on the back of the head.

"So, did you get your answers?" She asked. "Does it help you think?"

"It puts my mind at ease." I admitted. "I'm still thinking on it, but I'm less convinced it'd be a mistake."

"Good enough." Sarah leaned over and hugged me. "We should get back—there's a meeting we shouldn't miss."

"Right." I got up and helped her up. "Better go then." We walked back to the lobby. I didn't even notice we held hands the whole way there. Everyone was still in the lobby when we got back. Aside from the fact Dominic was sitting down, things were unchanged. No one had noticed us leave. We'd just been getting comfortable when an enlisted soldier came in yelling for us to gather in one of the meeting rooms on the ground floor.

"Well, let's see what this is all about." We both followed the crowd down one of the hallways. "So, what's the deal with that?" I motioned with my elbow to Eddie and Kim, who were holding hands. I'd just noticed that.

"They're an item now." Sarah sounded triumphant.

"I still think you should worry about your own problems." Other people's business still didn't mean much to me.

"I'm just returning a favor for all the support she's given me. You have to admit they look nice together." They did, kind of, but I would never admit it.

"I feel sorry for that boy; Kim's going to run right over him the way you're changing her."

"I know." Sarah smirked. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"You're evil." Since we were in public, I settled for giving her a light shove. We cut it out then since everyone was starting to file into the meeting room. It was quite big—there was a stage and some space in front of it where someone had set up about only thirty chairs. This meant that some people, like us, ended up standing against the back wall while watching the stage.

After a moment, Stone, Captain Brenner, and an aide carrying a small stand and a rolled up poster stepped onto the stage. Something caught my eye on Stone's collar, and I whistled softly. "That's a lieutenant-colonel insignia, isn't it?" I wasn't the only one who had noticed; soon enough, all of the members of the Air Wing were pointing at Stone's new insignia and whispering about this latest development.

"Looks like it." Sarah sounded surprised. "They usually don't promote veterans and put them out to pasture with the same rank."

"Old man must be happy to get one last promotion before he's out of the game." If Stone had given any thought to retiring like he had before we'd gotten to the shelter, he'd shelved it after we got here. But he was like us and thousands of other poor bastards whose skills wouldn't be too essential once the war ended. "I just realized it's going to be a lot harder on all the veterans. Soldiering is all they've known for at least two decades, and now they're going to have to give it up." My own problems suddenly seemed small in comparison.

"Yeah." Sarah sobered up too, and we waited for the meeting to start. The aide had set up a stand and unfolded the poster, revealing it to be some sort of organization diagram. I squinted, but I couldn't make out much, so I waited till the Captain and Stone exchanged some words and the presentation began. Stone stepped into the background and the Captain stepped up to the podium. I found that kind of funny; after the promotions, Brenner definitely wasn't the highest ranking person in the Battalion, yet he was still in charge. He hadn't got us into anything really bad though, so who cared? I turned my attention to the stage when he started to speak.

"I want to start by thanking and congratulating everyone here." He began. "Everyone had a lot of choices when the world changed, yet you all chose to uphold your duty." He had to stop there for a brief applause. Even if that hadn't been the reason why I joined the Air Force, I realized a decent path when I saw it, so I clapped. He went on to congratulate everyone for surviving up to this point, and asked for a moment of silence to remember the fallen. If anyone had ever made a joke about him not being human like most officers, I'd tell them to get their head examined.

"The decision to reorganize the Battalion's assets is because its responsibilities had shifted from giving humanitarian aid to participating in full-scale warfare." He explained. "The Air Wing will retain its independence for the sake of organization and supply, but it has been decided to split up and permanently assign individual units to certain duties. We feel that this is a more efficient way to operate than assigning them a duty every battle." That made sense; less work to sort out when bullets were already flying.

"We're just presenting an outline at this point, but each aircraft will have an assigned duty and a new call sign to be recognized by." Without further delay, he introduced the new set up. "We are distributing all combat aircraft across the main ground force, the naval detachment, and a new 'secondary' force formed for action behind enemy lines to ensure equal protection and support for all units."

"He's considerate." Sarah observed. I nodded.

"We're splitting our four remaining fighters into two two-plane formations—one to ensure air superiority over ground forces and one to support our naval forces. Both bombers will be assigned the task of carpet-bombing enemy ground forces in support of our own. For reference, our ground forces have been completely reorganized into three combined-arms companies—each with elements of infantry, armor, and artillery units combined—and two tank companies. Our two Sky-Raiders will be assigned to support a tank company each. Two of the A-10s will be appointed to anti-ship combat and the remaining one will be assigned to support our forces that will be operating behind enemy lines. Each helicopter will be assigned to support a combined-arms company each."

"These are the guide lines for our new doctrine." Stone now spoke. "Given circumstances, individual aircraft may be given a different assignment, but the positions one is assigned is the job they should assume and prepare for. Are there any questions?" One of the fighter pilots raised his hand.

"Are two fighters really enough for air superiority tasks?" He asked. Brenner answered him.

"Each of the five ground companies has two anti-air tanks and an anti-air missile vehicle with them. The cruiser has modern AA missiles and the destroyer has AA guns. The fighters' roles will be supporting the anti-air effort." That pilot nodded and put his hand down. "Are there any questions?" There were none. Brenner nodded. "I have to brief the ship captains as well. You are all dismissed. The reorganization will begin tomorrow." Everyone got up and began to leave.

"I've been thinking." Sarah started as we walked out of the hotel on the street. There were a lot of grunts from the Battalion on the street, but none of them paid us any mind. "We can probably miss the therapy session for today; we've made progress on our own."

"I can agree to that." She was right; we'd sorted some things out by ourselves. It wasn't quite a good cause for a party, but it was something to feel good about.

"How about we go drinking for rest of the day?" She elbowed me in the side. Now that was a plan!

"Why not? If we're going to settle down, might as well get it out of our system." Not only did I admit that was our intention, I'd admitted to another possibility. But that something to think about for another time. For now, we would enjoy ourselves.

X Darret, Lazuria X

Life in general was stressful, and so was soldiering, even in the most normal circumstances possible. In a post-apocalyptic world, both had become even more so. All over the world—or what remained of it—people were beginning to show signs of strain. In Lazuria, however, this only meant that more people were turning to drink far more often than in gentler times—not unsurprising for a people known for having a fondness for anything alcoholic. For those who were looking for something more than just a shot of vodka, considered by most as Lazuria's national drink, the Lenin's Bar and Grill was just the right place.

Located along Stalininskiy Prospekt across the bridge from Fort Lazuria, the place boasted the finest selection of drinks and the best cuisine for miles around, not to mention the generally relaxing and sociable atmosphere that made it one of the best places for people to meet with one another. It had already gained a reputation, even before the meteors came, as a gathering place for the toast of Lazurian high society; when the meteors came, as it was with the rest of the country that had survived, its reputation was made to serve in the effort to stabilize the country. Although it still was the place to go to for social drinking, the informal nature of the Lazurians dictated that important decisions were made over a round of drinks or two. As such, the bar also doubled as an informal gathering place where, more likely than not, decisions were made and strategies were formulated. With the current situation as it is, this also meant that the bar was used for such purposes on a daily basis. Politics and war were now the order of the day, and the bar was getting tons of it; as far as everyone within was concerned, business was good.

For some people however, this meant that business was good in more ways than one.

Today had been such a day. After the recent defeats suffered by Lazuria in its previous offensives, Forsythe had decided to issue orders to the armed forces to shift to a defensive war. These orders meant a lot of new things, from the highest ranking officer in STAVKA, or the Lazurian General Staff, down to the lowly private; new plans have to be formulated, troops, tanks, and planes have to be transported to new locations, and fleets have to be moved from their homeports to their new areas of operations. Staff officers would have to work overtime; the orders emphasized that speed was of the utmost importance, lest Rubinelle manage to seize some of the islands before any defense could be organized. For the ordinary soldier, especially those stationed in Darrett, this meant that they only had a few days left to enjoy the sights of the capital. In either way, the wine would still flow, and so would business in the bar.

"Lavrushka, would you be a dear and pass me a couple of beers over here?" A scantily-clad waitress shouted over the bustle and din of soldiers and sailors enjoying themselves to the bartender over the counter, who was busy mixing drinks for two officers—an Army colonel and a Navy captain.

"Anything for you, Lara. Give me a moment." With a flourish of his hands, Lavrushka finished mixing the colonels' drinks and poured them into their cups. While he was passing a few bottles over to Lara, he heard the Army colonel say, "It's what I've always said all along; we don't need to invade Rubinelle. All we had to do was to defend the islands and let the Rubes bleed themselves white trying to invade one. We don't have a lot of men left, but so do they."

_Colonel Pyotr Balashenko, commander of the 144th Motor-Rifle Regiment, part of the 23rd Division of the 3rd Guards Army. A Great War veteran, having fought in the final Rubinelle offensive as a captain of a tank company, his actions earned him the attention of General Forsythe, who breveted him to lieutenant-colonel. Was offered a position in STAVKA after the war but refused, saying he wanted a new command after his old unit was decimated. When the meteors came, Forsythe himself took him out of retirement and promoted him to full colonel—which speaks volumes of his abilities. A widower with no family—his wife died giving birth to his son. That son later on died during the war, a few days before his second birthday, when a Rubinelle bomber sortie attacked the residential district where his son and his parents lived; none of his family survived. An intelligent, serious man, and a dangerous enemy; he had never forgotten what Rubinelle did to his family during the war, but he never lets his emotions get in the way._

The Navy captain spoke up. "You've made your point already, Petrushka. STAVKA's already carried out your recommendations." It never hurt to have the ear of Forsythe, he mused, although he didn't begrudge his friend that privilege. Pyotr was a skilled commander too, but on a somewhat smaller scale. He took a sip of his drink and said, "Admiral Nasanov agrees with you as well. The issue here is whether or not we have enough troops to carry out the tasks at hand."

_Captain Mikhail Litvinenko, commander of the Kara-class cruiser Askold, directly under the control of the 6th Fleet. Fought in the Great War as a captain of a Skorry-class destroyer. Like his friend, he was widowed during the War; however, he remarried a few years afterward. When hostilities erupted between the NRA and Lazuria, he willingly re-entered service in the Navy, eventually rising to his current command. A good commander, although more on the cautious side—which is very unusual for a sailor._

"That is very kind of Uncle Vanya. Send him my regards." He paused. "No matter how much we receive, nothing is ever enough, Misha." Pyotr replied. "We'll just have to make do." His eyes wandered to the map of Lazuria that was prominently displayed on the center of the bar. It was too artistic for his tastes, but it would do; at least it got the important parts right.

"From what I hear, we'll be shipping out into the islands, just like in the last war. I'm pretty sure the bulk of the army will be stationed on Zvenigorod." He pointed out the place with his glass, and then took a sip. Being the largest island in the Archipelago of Elgava—the official name of the channel islands under Lazurian control—it had the best facilities to sustain a large force. It also saw the heaviest fighting during the last war. He continued, "The staff is currently working over the specifics of the plan next door." He was referring to the Red Bar, an exclusively private room for individuals who had money to spend—that was before the meteors, of course. Now it merely served as a gathering room for military and political types, albeit an expensive one; both insisted on paying for the room, which suited the owner very well.

"Well, we can't expect them to formulate plans in this noise, eh?"

_But it isn't loud enough for me to hear, that's for sure. So Forsythe has decided to shift into the defensive, eh? 3rd Guards and the 6th Fleet are to form the bulk of the defending forces, although other units may be assigned as well. All I need now is confirmation. The particulars can come later. Ah, here he comes._

Lavrushka was drying some newly-washed glasses when a burly-haired customer sat on the vacant chair beside the Army colonel. Sergey Bogdanov was a foreman in the Boiky Metal Works; being one of the few factories that supported the war effort, this meant that a lot of his workers as well as himself were putting in some serious all-nighters in the past few days. Like everyone else in the bar, he needed a drink to relax.

_He may be a foreman, but he evidently knows a lot more than it seems. Of course, when you have a sloppy and talkative brother in the General Staff… I wonder how they let in people like that in sensitive posts, but I'm not complaining._

"So Lavrenti Ivanovich, how are you?"

"Could be better, but I'm doing fine, Sergey. How's the family?"

"Both sons have written home, so I suppose they're still alive. Wife's still the same, though."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to get you a drink. Is it the usual?"

"A shot of the finest vodka you have in the house. Make it two."

_Bingo. Guess I'll have my confirmation soon enough._

Sergey continued. "So I presume you still need my tools for your windows?"

"Well, I really do. It's pretty difficult to sleep with my windows open, you know? My heater broke down too. Here you go." Lavrushka handed him two glasses. Sergey downed one glass in a single gulp and handed a box of tools over the counter.

_These aren't just ordinary tools, of course; these are the tools needed to end the war. _

"And here you go as well. Just try not to break any, okay?" He chuckled.

"I try not to, Sergey. I do have a pair of excellent hands." He demonstrated it by juggling a couple of glass bottles expertly. The spectacle drew not a few onlookers from the bar. When he finished there was a round of enthusiastic applause. Every patron of the bar knew that he was no ordinary bartender, and they were appreciative of it.

_Of course I'm not. I don't just juggle bottles; I juggle careers as well. Pity I couldn't tell you what my other career is._

Sergey laughed. "All right, I see your point." He downed the other glass in one gulp. "Guess I got to go home. See you around. And try not to break a bottle when you do your stuff."

"I've never broken a bottle yet. But I'll keep that in mind." Sergey waved him and left. Lavrushka now turned to the gaggle of customers who now crowded the counter. Evidently, they had been impressed, especially when they found out that the bottles weren't empty.

"So, what can I get you, comrades?"

The night passed on quickly and smoothly for the most part, not counting the occasional fist fight. MP's were on the scene to break it up—it was prescient of the bar to make an arrangement with the local military police commander— and the night passed on as if it never happened. When closing time arrived Lavrushka went to check the bathrooms first; he had worked on the place long enough to know just how many things could happen within the four walls of a cubicle.

He wasn't disappointed; he found a soldier asleep in one, evidently too drunk to get up. He found another one lying asleep on the floor; he had puked his guts out. Two cubicles across him, Lavrushka could hear the sounds of drunken lovemaking; they were so engrossed in their own business that they didn't even hear or see the cubicle door open. _And I always thought Lazurians could hold their wine very well._

As was the usual, he called their security man, a bald, muscular guy named Dmitry, to help him clear the toilets. While he carried the two collapsed drunks out of the toilet room he heard Dmitry bang the cubicle door. _That should get their attention._

Barely halfway across the bar, Lavrushka saw a soldier and a scantily-clad woman overtake him to the entrance. Evidently, Dmitry did a number on the two of them; they barely had time to put their underpants on. He soon appeared beside him.

'Let me take him, Lavrenti." He took one of the drunks and carried him across his shoulders, as if he were some piece of meat he had just killed for dinner. "It's the same shit every day, isn't it, Lavrushka?"

"Well, shit does happen every day, so I got used to it."

"Heh, that's the spirit, boy. You'd make a good soldier." Dmitry was a veteran as well, having served in a rifle company during the war.

"I'm only useful for juggling bottles in the air, I'm afraid." _And then for some._

"Nothing's so difficult if you'd put your mind on it." Soon they were outside the bar.

"Guess I'd better go back and finish up. Could you watch over them for me, Dmitry?"

"As always." He paused. "You could do better to serve your country than cleaning toilets and serving drinks, Lavrushka."

"I know. I'll keep it in mind." With a friendly wave to Dmitry, he went inside.

_I can't help feeling guilty when he says that, especially with the kind of work I really am doing here. They're good people, but this is war we're talking about. Nothing personal._

All of the cubicles were open, except for one that remained closed. Lavrushka had a good idea who was in it.

Two hours before closing time, a woman took the seat where the Army colonel had sat. Lavrushka was clearing the counter when he heard her speak.

"Could you suggest a drink? I'd like vodka, but I don't want a hangover."

_Jeez, I almost dropped that dish. A code word? What the hell?_

Lavrushka straightened up and turned to look at her. She was small and frail-looking, yet the look on her face told otherwise. She looked pretty, but not quite; he was sure some of it was artificial. There was something in the way she carried herself as well that sent red lights going off in his mind.

_Maybe I'm reading too much into this. I'd better check._

He shrugged. "We don't serve that kind of drinks here. You're looking in the wrong places. Hell, maybe you want a glass of water." He took a clean glass and filled it with water. Much to his surprise, she wasn't offended; she drank all of it. Turning the glass upside down, she left and made her way to the toilets, causing not a few heads to turn in her direction. He hadn't seen her leave the toilets since.

After closing the door, Lavrushka called out, "It's just the two of us here. It's safe to come out." There was a brief pause. "Why did the Agency send you?"

The stall opened, and out came the woman from earlier. She turned to look at Lavrushka straight in his eyes, and said,

"The Agency didn't send me, Lavrenti Ivanovich Sokolov. Or should I call you Lawrence Sanders?" He was surprised.

_How did she know my name? And just who is she?_

X Author's Note X

On another note, I'm planning on changing the fic's name. This is because of three reasons: (1) it would stand out among the trilogy since the other two have original names; (2) I'm considering novelizing the game from the perspectives of the actual characters, and I can't very well use the same name for two stories; and (3) false advertisement concerns. Only 1 out of 4 people read the story after the prologue, which I still consider significant despite having more than 3000 views total on chapters past it. I've come to conclude that the reason it had that much views is because it focused more on original content rather than what was found in the game.


	48. Chapter 47

A/N: It was decided to cut the last scene in the previous chapter because of excessive length. The rest is in this chapter. The character of Lawrence is his, though you with good eyes for detail will recognize his conversation partner. On the chance this little experiment of ours may not appeal to some of you, it will be the last collaborate chapter for a while. I can say, without a single doubt this time, that the next chapter will be the last before we get to 'Greyfield Strikes'. This plot arc gave so much room for extra development, I damn near ran away with it, so I apologize.

X Darrett, Lazuria X

The man whom she called Lawrence Sanders stood silently, as if waiting for something to happen. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. However, she sensed him stiffen, as if she had hit a raw nerve. The tension was so thick in the air you could cut it with a carving knife. So, it is him, she thought.

On the other side of the room, Lawrence was mentally evaluating the options he had.

_I don't know who this girl is, but I got to do something fast. I could deny whatever she says, but it's no guarantee she'll leave me alone. If she is an agent of Lazurian counter-intelligence, then I'm screwed either way; guess I'll have to kill her._

That thought brought shivers down his spine. Contrary to what the movies portrayed, intelligence officers weren't killers; they were there only to gather information, nothing more. His mentors had taught him to avoid killing an enemy agent as possible because it was messy; although bodies could be hidden, someone would eventually notice, questions would be asked, and then an investigation would result. More often than not, the story would end up with the officer getting caught, with varying consequences; the lucky ones were sent to labor camps up north, where they discovered what hell was like on Earth. On the other hand, the unlucky ones would get their nine ounces—which was the Lazurian euphemism for being shot. _Maybe it is the other way around…_ He shook the thought off his mind; this was no time for word games. He considered another possibility.

_If she really is our agent, then… Why should she contact me directly? I'm not her officer. It's bad field craft; hadn't her officer taught her that? Unless something bad happened to that officer… _

Lawrence remembered the reason he was sent to Lazuria, three years ago; together with four other individuals, they were sent by the Agency to recruit agents and gather information vital for the country's safety, under the personal aegis of the Agency's Director and his personal operation: Project Foresight (It was clever of the Director to name it Foresight after the famed Lazurian commander who defeated Rubinelle, or he may have been a bad pun; either way, the project was important). _ I wonder if the Director is still alive, though... But I haven't received orders to stop the project, so I'll have to go on doing my job here. _Both countries had been at war for a long time, and if Rubinelle wanted to avenge its defeat in the last war, she would have to be prepared. And that meant having a set of good eyes and ears in Lazuria. Although Lawrence never really got to know them—as if he was allowed; the Director expressly forbid personal contact among the officers, and they all flew in separate flights in different days, anyway—he knew them by their code names, all of which were personally chosen by the officers themselves. His was "Colonel"; he had decided to use it because a mascot of a fast food chain back in Rubinelle also shared his last name. _I guess it really is childish, but to each his own._

"Spade" was a police officer in the Militia, the Lazurian police force; he also was one hell of a card player, and was known to frequent plenty of gambling houses around Darrett. _As if that wasn't evident enough._

"Rose" was a secretary to an influential Lazurian politician; she (Lawrence was sure it was a "she"—no man would ever take a flower for a code name.) knew a lot about his personal life as well, as was evident in the hints she would throw in the coded communications the five of them would exchange over time. _Maybe she was his mistress too…Every rose does have its thorns._

"Shadow" was one of those low lifes who were occasionally contracted by the higher-ups in Lazuria to do the occasional dirty job, and it was no wonder why he had to assume that identity; he was a convicted felon once, but the Agency saw some talent in him that they decided to recruit him. _Guess that's screwed up, but he gets the job done, so no one bothered to complain._

Lastly, "Boxer" was an ordinary desk employee in the Lazurian Ministry of Agriculture; among the five of them, he was the most tight-lipped, for he preferred working alone. _I often wonder why he chose that name, but I guess he lives in a box of his own._

Together, these five officers processed and sent a lot of valuable information back to Rubinelle, but that had changed when the meteors fell. Communication had become impossible; the meteors had destroyed most of the satellites used for that purpose. Some remained, but they were requisitioned for exclusive use by the government. That left the use of couriers, but that too was dangerous; none of them knew what the others looked like, so they had resorted to giving information directly to the Agency instead. It was a disjointed way to do the job they were supposed to do, but they had to accomplish it.

_There was no way the others could have found me. They don't even know what I look like. So where did she come from? Guess I have no choice._

He shifted his stance and said, "I don't know how you got my name, but you'll have to give me more proof that you're one of us. Or I'll have to kill you." Lawrence pulled a small automatic pistol from his pockets and pointed it at her. Her expression hadn't changed a whit.

_Either she is one cocky woman, or she has ice-cold water on her veins. _

"For all your skill in throwing bottles in the air, I'm afraid you're no crack shot with a pistol. Sandra told me that you wasted an entire magazine without hitting a single target once." He nearly dropped his gun.

"How the hell did you…" He remembered that time, ten years ago, when as a young high school student he and Sandra went to a firing range her father owned. Eager to show off, he took a pistol and began firing at the targets in range. When they saw his target boards, he was surprised that none of his shots hit the human-shaped drawings. Sandra couldn't help laughing when she saw the results, especially when he had bragged to her that he knew how to fire a pistol.

_Well, I DID know how to fire one, I just didn't know how to aim—but I guess differences like that are wasted on women. Hell, she even joked about it while we were having our private time together! I improved my shooting skills afterwards, but she wasn't there when I did._

He and Sandra Brown had been close once_. _They had met each other in their third year as high school students, and they attended the same university together. Lawrence was drawn to her because of her carefree attitude, which greatly contrasted his studious, bookish conduct in high school and university life. He had often wondered what made Sandra drawn to him, but whatever it was, the feelings they had for each other were mutual, and both acted on it when the chance arose. He feared that he would lose her to the jocks in the university who often made passes on her; when he confessed his fears to her she laughed and playfully flicked his nose. "I'll prove you wrong, you see," she said, "no one's good enough for me except you." That silenced his worries; that is, until they graduated. She did prove him wrong, but in the worst way possible; a few weeks after they graduated, she left him, not for another man, but for a career overseas. He had insisted on waiting for her, but she shook her head. "It wouldn't be fair to you. It's always been the foundation of our relationship. Distance wouldn't help us one bit, you know that. And," she paused," we've had each other for a long time. Perhaps we should take some time to know ourselves better. I loved you because of what you were, but I know you can be better than this. I don't want you to change because of me; I want you to change because you want to. Perhaps, if I ever see you again, I'll never let you go." She kissed him with an air of finality and sadness and left.

That was seven years ago, or six years before the meteors came. A lot had happened then; he joined the Rubinelle Intelligence Agency after a few months, distinguishing himself in a few high-profile intelligence missions until he was personally selected by the Director for Project Foresight. He never stopped thinking about her, though by now he knew that she had married a man five years her senior.

_Perhaps she had known it would end anyway. People change. If I had waited, would she still be the same girl I had loved? Would I still be the same? But still…_

A thought suddenly sprung out of his head. "Wait, Sandra is here? Was she the one who sent you?" _What the hell is she doing here? Is she "Rose"?_

So this IS him, she thought. "Yes. She was here until last week. She had to clear out of the country because the FSB was on her."

_Lazurian intelligence on her tail? Just what is up with her? _Lawrence suddenly realized that there was something more going on with Sandra than he had thought. Never mind that she was already married—who would've imagined a carefree, free-spirited girl playing a deadly game of cat-and-mouse with the most ruthless intelligence service in the world? He put his gun down and walked closer to her.

"Look, I need you to answer a lot of questions, but I don't think here is a good place to start. You'll have to come to my place." He pulled out a small container from his pocket and drew a capsule from it. "Here, take this. You'll have to drink it if we have to get out here without raisin any suspicions."

For her part, she regarded the capsule, and then looked at Lawrence with uninterested eyes. He hasn't changed at all, Sandra, she thought. He is still the same boy you once loved, down from the way he walks up to the hair style he uses. But I think I'm getting way too ahead of myself; I'll suspend my judgement for now.

"And what is this?" Lawrence had handed her the pill, which she examined between her fingers.

"That's an extra-strong sleeping pill, if you have to call it something. It'll knock you out within a few seconds after you take it. You'll be out for about an hour; I need you asleep so I have a plausible story to give to anyone who asks. Where's your wallet?"

"In my purse. And how would I know if your intentions are honourable?"

"That's no way to talk to a superior officer." When her eyes flashed in annoyance, he explained, "That's what the code word meant. It meant that the Agency was sending an agent for me to handle. In your case, Sandra used it to mean that she was sending an agent for me to handle." Lawrence didn't add that Sandra—if she really is "Rose"— should have told her to use a different set of code words, but it only lent credibility to her story; if Sandra had forgotten the required protocol, that meant she was under great stress.

"So, does this mean you're now my control officer?"

"Yes. And why are you still awake? Take the pill." When she hesitated, he added, "I can very well make that an order, you know." He patted the gun on his pocket.

She sighed. "Is this the way you treat your agents?" She took the pill on her mouth and swallowed. For a moment, Lawrence thought she was about to say something from the look on her face; before he had the chance to ask, she had collapsed on him.

He carried her out of the toilet room and out of the bar, where Dmitry was still waiting for the MP transport to pick up the two drunks from earlier. He was surprised when he saw Lawrence carrying a woman who was asleep.

"I thought there was no one left inside."

"So did I, but then the door opened and out she came, like some zombie in a movie. I caught her just as she was about to fall on the floor."

"Well, shall we ask for transport to take her to her place?"

"No, I think I'll do it. I got her address." Lawrence fished out a calling card that bore her name and her address; it was an apartment in the outskirts of Darrett. _I'm pretty sure the name in it is false, but I'll examine it further._ Dmitry smiled knowingly.

"If it was anyone else but you, Lavrushka… I must admit, she does look lovely."

_So I'm Lavrenti Sokolov again, huh?_ "You do know I'm the honourable type, Dmitry." He laughed.

"Try telling that to Lara." Lara was one of their fellow employees; she and Lawrence were good friends, but their co-workers were convinced something bigger was up between the two of them. _Well, I've slept with her a couple of times, but it hasn't gotten to that point yet—and it never will be. _

"She's not my girlfriend."

"As you say, Lavrushka. As you say." He paused. "I suggest you go straight home. I'll clean up whatever's left."

"You're a good guy, Dmitry. Thanks and good night." Dmitry waved him off.

A few minutes after, he had found his car and was now driving towards his apartment. He looked up in his rear mirror to see her sound asleep. _She'll be asleep for quite a while; I gave her a really strong one—the one that lasts for half a day_. He felt guilty about lying, but he had a job to do; the tool box Sergey gave him was heavier than the usual, and he needed time to analyse it.

He was finally home half an hour later, and it took him another half hour to carry her and the toolbox to his apartment. She was already asleep on his bed when he finally opened the tool box; inside was some tools—he really did need to fix his windows—and underneath those was a thick brown envelop. He opened it to see the words OPERATION BLUE SHIELD displayed prominently on the top of each page.

_Blue Shield? How appropriate. So the colonel was right on target. That's bad news._

Lawrence had no inkling or knowledge of military tactics, but he did know that the Lazurians fight bravely especially when on defense—the last war had proven that. _It's as if they draw their strength from the earth of their land, just like that giant in Greek mythology—what was his name again? Antaeus, I think._

He returned to the document again. He glossed over the figures—he had no idea what to make of it, all he knew was that it was a lot of men—but he did notice the implementation period: five days. _Five days?_ They were moving fast; by the time the document reached the Capital, the operation would have been completed. If Rubinelle decided to invade, it would be a massacre. And they didn't have enough men…

_I'll have to send this as soon as I can. Guess it's time to call in some chips._

He decided to drive into the city and talk directly to his contact; a ship owner who had business in the Channel. If there was a time to call in a favour from him, there was no better time to do it than today—but privately he wished he didn't need to.

Anatoliy Krivchenko was sipping his fifteenth cup of coffee in his private office, supervising the finishing touches of the ship his company was building- an amazing thing, since most industry was geared to war. I really ought to lay off the coffee, he thought; my bladder isn't as young as it used to be. But he had to stay awake; this was the fifteenth ship of his fleet, and he wanted to see it completed before his very eyes. It seemed only yesterday that the company was struggling just to stay afloat—they had definitely come a long way. The Gnevny Shipping Co., Ltd. had once been a big name in the industry, at least seventy years ago when Lazuria was still a monarchy. During the Lazurian Revolution it had made the mistake of siding with the nobility—soon afterward the company was reduced to a single shipyard and two ships as a punishment for its folly. Rather than sell the company, its owners—to be more specific, his father and older brother—had decided to be "creative" in finding a solution: within a few years, it had grown back to its former size, although it was nowhere the size of its competitors, who enjoyed plenty of support from the government. When the meteors came, the support previously enjoyed by its competitors was withdrawn, making it one of the few companies that were still able to operate. The thought alone was enough to make Anatoliy smile.

There was a catch, of course; it was Rubinelle money that had funded the company's growth. This meant that the company was often used as a tool to advance Rubinelle interests; all five members of the project worked in the company at one point before resigning to be able to work under their real cover identities. Not that Anatoliy minded; he wanted the government to pay for what they did to their family, but sometimes being a lackey was just too much. He emptied his cup, and then decided against another; he decided to open a bottle of brandy instead. He had just received a government decree requisitioning all available ships for "reconstruction" efforts in the Channel. In that score, he expected one of the project members to pay him a visit about it, and he wouldn't want to be known for being a poor host. But that didn't mean he would give in to them as fast as any paid whore would do; he would give in, eventually, but they would have to pay a price.

As Lawrence arrived at the shipyard's parking lot, he imagined Sandra working in a shipping factory, but dismissed the thought—there was no way she would have worked with the Agency; it was just unthinkable, but it had happened… He soon entered the shipyard and introduced himself to a security guard, who then led him to the shipyard's main office facilities. A well-placed word to his secretary soon helped him enter his office, and finally he was in front of the man whom the Director said would help him.

Anatoliy Krivchenko was just opening a bottle of brandy when Lawrence was ushered in by his secretary, who had promptly closed the door behind her. There was a moment of silence between the two men, broken only by the sounds of Anatoliy's fingers prying the bottle open.

"I wonder what you said to my secretary that she had to introduce you to me without me knowing about it."

"I told her that the Colonel wished to talk to you about a matter of mutual interest."

So, I'm talking with the bartender, he thought. How appropriate. "I presume you can open this bottle for me, Mr…?"

"Lavrenti Ivanovich. Here, let me have it." He walked to the table where Anatoliy was struggling to open the bottle and deftly opened it. He picked up one of the glasses in the tray, put some ice cubes on it, poured some brandy for the old man, and then did the same for himself. He gave one glass to Anatoliy, and then kept the other for himself. Both men stood silently, sipping their own glasses of brandy. It was of a fine vintage as well; it would be a terrible waste if they didn't enjoy it before they settled down to talk business.

"I presume you didn't come here to pour me some drinks, did you? How's the Lenin?'

"Business is booming, as you very well know." Anatoliy often came to the bar, but Lawrence never got the chance to mix him a drink; he preferred to have his served straight up. The second part was no sarcasm; he wanted to impress to him the urgency of his request that he had no time to exchange pleasantries.

"Let's get straight to the matter, shall we? What is it you want?" He emptied his glass in one gulp. Lawrence did the same.

"I have a package that needs to be transferred at once."

"And how big is the package?"

"Just a small envelop."

"Hmm. And how urgent is it?"

_It is about as urgent as the completion of your ship._ "Urgent enough that it might end the war against our favour, as well as the generosity my country gives to your company."

"My boy, I do not see the support your country gives to us is generosity, although I must say the support has been 'mutually beneficial', as you so put it."

_Slipped up again. _"I did not come here to argue grammar, although I do thank you for thinking the same as I do."

"I wish it were wholly true. I am willing to give you the support you so need, were it not for a simple problem that has presented itself."

_What does he want this time? _The Director had expressly told Lawrence not to expect favours from Krivchenko without giving something in return; although he was already 'bought', he still demanded—and got—concessions from anything he wanted.

"It has come to my attention that some of our ships have been under attack from your naval vessels, despite the guarantees I have received. I would very much like to know why."

_I thought the answer was obvious. _"If they were flying the Lazurian flag, I do not see why our ships won't."

"All my ship captains have been instructed to transmit coded messages whenever they come into contact with your naval vessels. Despite these measures, they were still fired upon. Many were sunk. Does this mean that our arrangements have been revoked?"

_You ask me that question when you just received a wire transfer to your account earlier? _"Of course not. But you must understand that we are at war here. Our vessels have difficulty in finding the sheep among the wolves." _Especially ones wearing wolf pelts._

"You seem to have a taste for the poetic, Lavrenti Ivanovich. But you must consider our position. We cannot do business for ourselves and for your country if our ships are always sunk by your vessels. Even if you do promise to pay us more, that is not enough. It takes at least six months to build a ship. Within six months I will lose about three. I cannot continue business at this rate, and what will happen to you if I close shop?"

_Then we'll have to kill you. You know too much._ "I understand your concerns, Anatoliy Stepanovich. But I must confess that I have no idea on how to solve your problem. Do you have anything in mind?" _I just want this over and done with._

"Well, yes. I do have a simple solution." He went to his table and pulled out a map of the Channel. "There is a route here, between the islands of Buzhsk and Nezhatin, which most ships rarely use. According to our charts, the route there is rocky and narrow, so you understand why. However, one of my captains happened to stumble upon that area; he claims that our ships can pass through here. I decided to see for myself, and I can guarantee that it is passable enough; somehow, the meteors had managed to change the landscape."

"So, what is it you need?"

"What I want is a guarantee from your country that they will not attack any ship passing through here." He pointed emphatically to that spot in the map. "I intend to use that as my private shipping lane. If your country agrees to it, I will consider that as a debt to be repaid to you as soon as I can."

"But you must understand that I cannot give you that guarantee."

"Of course. That is why I would like you to put my request in writing. My men will send it to the Capitol—together with your parcel, of course. It'll be there tomorrow in the evening"

_Thank goodness._ Although he could be a royal pain in the ass sometimes, he was very efficient in his job; Lawrence had learned that in the world of intelligence operations it was the mercenaries who delivered the best results—as long as you kept a close eye on them."I thank you for that, Anatoliy Stepanovich. But I cannot assure you that it'll be possible."

"Oh, I know it will. It always is. When will they go to your place?"

"Tomorrow morning. Preferably earlier."

"Don't forget the letter, Lavrenti Ivanovich." He nodded, and shook hands with Mr. Krivchenko before he left.

_I'm pretty sure he's left instructions for his men not to pick up my package if the letter wasn't included._ He sped all the way to his apartment. Finding the woman still asleep, he opened his computer, turned on his word processor, and began to type away.

_I just wish they would listen to me just once, although I wouldn't mind if they didn't. I'll never ask him for favours again. _Lawrence was convinced he had told himself that statement several times already.

He had finally finished typing and printing his recommendations when he caught sight of a calling card lying on the floor. He remembered that it was the card he had used earlier; it had belonged to the woman. He decided to look at it.

_So, her name is Retha Smith. Why does it sound too Rubinelle? Guess I'll have to ask her a lot of questions when she wakes up. And she better have all the answers._

He turned to glance at his now-occupied bed where she was still sleeping. Suddenly, he felt tired.

_But for now, I have to sleep._

X The Channel X

"Another group, skipper." The sailor on the periscope called. Benjamin Farragut got up and walked across the CIC of the submarineto see for himself. Moving just a few feet under the water line, the RNS _Sea Wolf _could easily be detected by a ship, but none were around. He had to search around for a few seconds until he spotted what they'd been looking for: a large group of helicopters flying east.

Normally, submarines would be uninterested in aircraft, but these were unusual circumstances—the submarine was on recon duty, and this was the third group of helicopters they'd seen. Such activity was not only unusual as aircraft were growing increasingly scarce, but because of what they seemed to be carrying.

"Yep, most of them are carrying cargo containers underneath." He informed the men in the command center. What were in those containers or in the helicopters themselves? Including the past two formations, there were about twenty helicopters, each carrying a container apiece. Moving so much supplies and equipment could mean nothing but trouble. He could surface and contact the mainland, but Farragut was limited to trailing the helicopters for now. "Keep following them." He watched the formation disappear over the horizon.

As the submarine sped on, Farragut continued to think about the implications. Such formations had been common... where there was an actual front. Even now, everyone in the NRA was reeling at how rapidly their solid presence in the channel had been destroyed and the war reduced from fronts to manoeuvre warfare. It was necessary now, at least for Rubinelle. They'd thought that it was the same for Lazuria. But if so, then why were the helicopters there? Something was off.

About two hours later, they discovered what it was. "I see helicopters, sir. This looks like the destination." Again, Farragut looked through the periscope. Just barely in the distance were several islands and many tiny specs in the air above them; definitely the place. But an island had other implications.

"Keep an eye out for enemy surface contacts and keep our approach slow." He warned. Cruisers in particular had hunted recon submarines ruthlessly throughout the war. He'd escaped three in the last year, but only by the skin of his teeth, and once with damaged ballast tanks. Compared to surface ships, submarines didn't have a chance of intercepting a hostile missile, which meant the best chance was not to have one fired at you.

At a snail-like pace, the submarine approached the island. The crew avoided making even the slightest sound—enemy sonar was extremely sensitive and could even pick up a sneeze, or so the old war stories told. Farragut continued monitoring the horizon while the navigation officer searched a map for their exact location. As they approached, the officer tapped Farragut thrice—he had important information. Farragut took his eye off the periscope long enough to look.

Mentally, he grinned, but didn't show it—an officer had to remain composed. According to the map, they were only some fifty miles from mainland Lazuria, in a group of five islands. The map called the place Elgava. Very few vessels had gotten so close since the tide turned more than half a year ago. Being so close to the mainland, could this be a logistical hub? Or could it be a defensive line? He hoped it was the former rather than the later.

He continued to observe as the sub inched closer, hoping to see cargo ships ripe for sinking at any moment. Only when the sub rounded the south side of the westernmost island did he see anything. To the southeast were two more islands, and directly in front of the submarine, in the east, was a small island. Directly to the north was land—industrial he had to guess. Behind it must've been water, because over the island's skyline was the undeniable mass of antennas that belonged to two warship superstructures.

"There are two capital ships." He breathed. "And likely other ships we can't see." He examined further—you could tell a lot about a ship from its arrays. "Seems like a standard Lazurian Amphibious Projection Fleet." A Lazurian Amphibious Projection Fleet was an organization like a Rubinelle Marine Expeditionary Brigade operating closely with a Carrier Strike Group. The fleet would be centered on one battleship and a carrier, with dozens of smaller warships for extra support and protection. Accompanying the fleet were landers and amphibious assault ships that carried a Lazurian Naval Infantry brigade. Theoretically, such a brigade would have about 6,000 men and nearly fifty armored vehicles—smaller than their Rubinelle counterpart. But if they were like the MEU accompanying the NRA's only fleet, or any unit in the NRA for that matter, it'd be under-equipped. Still, that meant only one thing.

"They're building a defensive line here." Farragut confirmed reluctantly. He _was_ reluctant; if they were digging-in, the NRA would have to dig them out. Another major battle would be catastrophic; the NRA was getting really low on men and equipment. And the Lazurians clearly had men to spare if it could set this up. "We'll have to get word back to the mainland." He decided. _I don't deserve this uniform if we don't._

"Captain, shouldn't we try and sink some of the enemy vessels?" His XO asked. Farragut pondered this.

_Should we?_

"Lieutenant Jones," Farragut called to the sonar division chief. "Have you picked anything up?" The young officer poked his head out of the small hallway that was the sonar room.

"No sir." He took off his glasses and polished them. "Unless they are behind the islands, there isn't anything out there." Farragut considered this and then looked through the periscope again. Risk was a part of the game, but there was a limit. Every minute counted in this case. If they managed to fortify this new island like the ones they'd had as a front, they'd be damn near impossible to dislodge.

"No, we shouldn't." he decided. "But we'll perform recon on the two southernmost islands before heading back." Still on the periscope, he observed the island they were skirting. From here, he couldn't see anything but wild fauna and decaying buildings. That could mean a few things, depending on the status of the other islands. "Helmsman, take us to bearing 1-2-7! We'll stay at periscope depth for now."

The sub turned and sailed towards the smaller of the two islands at a moderate pace, with the submarine remaining undisturbed. They approached the west side of the island and circled around the south. Farragut observed it through the periscope. High-rise hotels dominated the small island, and the beaches were bare and deserted. Farragut was about to write this island off as good news when they came out on its east side—until he was greeted by the sight of a Lazurian T-34 sitting alertly in a parking lot at the edge of the beach. The enemy was definitely here, which meant they might be on the other islands too. To confirm his suspicions, Farragut ordered the sub directly east to the last island.

This one had some industrial facilities—shipbuilding, he guessed, like most islands always had. Boring grey offices and factories dominated the landscape. The sub inched within a mile of it and stopped while Farragut scanned it. _Was the enemy hidden behind those innocent looking buildings?_

As if to answer his question, an artillery shell suddenly exploded in the water a few meters from the submarine, splashing it with a wave of water. _Yes,_ the shell answered, _we are here. Now get the fuck out._ If that shell exploded close enough or—God forbid—directly on the submarine, it would most certainly sink. It happened in the last war that Farragut had studied, and he didn't want to learn the lesson the hard way

"Gentlemen, we have overstayed our welcome!" He stepped away from the periscope. "Emergency dive! Take us down and head directly south!" Over the blare of the loud siren that was now going off, everyone could clearly hear the sub groan as the ballast tanks were filled. The sub sunk quickly, turning as it did. Once it was near the sea bed, the engines roared with everything they had to propel the _Sea Wolf_ forward. There was no point trying to be quiet when the enemy knew they were there.

They travelled thirty miles before Farragut finally ordered the sub to slow down. His mind went back from combat to analysis. If there was an enemy presence in the three islands, then there had to be on the last two, but there wasn't many. And there was no sea or air patrol between the islands. Combined with all his other observations, he concluded that only forward elements had arrived so far; additional troops—no doubt engineers—would arrive within a day or two, maybe less now that they'd been exposed. Things would get bloody unless the NRA acted now.

"Halt." Farragut ordered. The sub finally halted after its wild dash to saftety. "Surface. I need to send a message back to GHQ." There was another groaning sound as the ballast tanks were emptied, and the sub began to rise. When it finished, Farragut would have to send in his findings. In his heart, he felt pity for the poor soul who would have to deliver the message. He felt even sorrier for the men and women who would have to come and fight.

_Everyone's had bad luck recently._ He thought to himself. Soon enough, he was sure; everyone's luck would completely run out, including his. The question was: where would everyone be when it happened?

X Tim X

"Hello again." Sarah said cheerfully as we entered the therapist's office.

"Good morning." The therapist responded. "You did not show up yesterday."

"Business with our unit." I waved my hand to show to her that we were wearing our uniforms. "We have more business in two hours, so can we just get started?" The therapist nodded. That wasn't the only reason; we both had headaches from drinking yesterday, and stiff bodies too—probably from sleeping on the tiled kitchen floor afterwards. _Damn hangovers. _But it had cleared tension that would probably show up again during this session.

"I believe we were scheduled to start discussing your individual problems. Who should we start first?" Sarah and I had discussed that on the way over, actually.

"My issues cause more problems, so we agreed to start with my trust issues first." Sarah volunteered. The therapist nodded and flipped through her notes.

"So you claim to have trouble trusting people in general?" Sarah nodded.

"I'm always slightly paranoid about the people close to me. I always have these... thoughts about them."

"Such as?" The therapist asked. Sarah seemed to go from pale white to bright red at the question.

"Umm... Could I just write them down?"

The therapist nodded and handed Sarah a pen and piece of paper. Leaning over so I couldn't see, she scribbled several things down on the paper and handed it back a few minutes later. The therapist read it over and scrawled a few short notes.

"Hmm." She stared at them for a moment. "I think we should start from the very beginning of this case." She decided. "Ms. Haskett, how long did you live with your father?" _Crack._ I started to curse internally because of the subject, and then in pain because of the way Sarah gripped my hand.

"Somewhere between five to seven years." She answered calmly enough. It was a different story with my hands, though.

_"Ow. Fuck. Damnit. OW!"_

"What was the relationship between you and your father, exactly?" She questioned. It was about the stupidest question I'd ever fucking heard. What the fuck did she think? That son of a—

"I'm... n-not really sure." Sarah admitted. Her answer baffled me so much all I did for the next few minutes was to stare at her. "I hate him for what he did and what's wrong with me now... But... 'It' wasn't the only thing that happened. I didn't starve; I was actually a little overweight when I got to the orphanage. I had plenty of toys. And when I started having... accidents... he'd help me clean up and got me diapers to wear. It seemed like he did care..."

"He didn't." I snarled. "It was like raising a pig to the slaughter." Both women looked at me in surprise.

"Mr. Haskett, you can step outside if you find this discussion too disturbing." She offered. It took me a moment to realize how pissed off I'd become in just a few minutes of talking. It definitely wouldn't help matters. I inhaled and exhaled to try and calm down. It didn't work as well as, say, punching someone or flipping a table, but it helped some.

"No." I said, with my voice still flat and with a tone. "The point was to do this together. I'll stay. But sorry, because I'm not going to just sit through this subject calmly." Sarah looked at me with happiness mixed with worry. The therapist stared at me for a few seconds before nodding.

"That's perfectly understandable." She was smart enough to realize that much. "Go on." She encouraged Sarah.

"Some days I hate him, others... I'm not sure." She admitted. "It's like people who hate their family but they still help them because they're family." The therapist nodded at the comparison. "He was the only blood relative I know that I have. And I can't really judge him for something that happened only occasionally when everything else was otherwise good. For all I know, maybe some sort of mental illness runs in my family and he just didn't know what he was doing wrong."

"Wait, wait, wait." I wasn't sure if I had a right to interrupt, but I did anyway. "Any time you've ever mentioned him, you said you hated him. Why—?"

"Because," Sarah answered me before I finished. "Every time I mentioned him it was the subject of kids or me being raped that came up." She fixed me with a glare. "Obviously, that's what I'm going to remember, and I'm not going to be calm about it!" Her voice rose in the last few words, which effectively shut me up and sent any emotion other than fear running.

"You understand what I'm trying to say, right?" Sarah turned back to the therapist, calm as ever.

"Yes. You were raised mostly by your father, correct?"

"I never knew my mother. He was the only person I knew until I went to the orphanage." Sarah responded.

"Children naturally become attached to their care takers, and that imprint can be very difficult to change. It's very common for children to maintain positive views of their parents even if society does not. But in your instance, it seems to be cognitive dissonance—holding two conflicting ideas at the same time."

"Sounds like me." Sarah admitted.

"It was well documented after the last war." The therapist went on. "Parents who would come back from the war often suffered from PTSD, and would become become distant or violent to their families. Children who remembered their parents before the war would become mentally conflicted when they compared the two different personalities. As you hold memories that showed your father in two different lights, the same result occurs. Almost identical cases have in fact been recorded with children who are the victim of sexual assault later in their teens."

"What does this have to do with her trust issues?" I risked cutting in again. Things were becoming so uncomfortable; I wanted the discussion to go somewhere else.

"We were about to return to that." The therapist assured me while Sarah glared at me again. "Unless you have something to add, Ms. Haskett?"

"No." Sarah turned away from me. "Go ahead."

"Children's social habits, behavior, and beliefs are largely developed in the first few years of their life, with their parents being the primary source of learning." She launched into another explanation of 'basic' human behavior. "You automatically based your expectations on what you learned from your father—"

"That people can do awful things... but at the same time be nice..." Sarah realized. A cloudy look came over her face for near a minute. Then she jumped up. "It all makes sense!"

_It makes fucking sense, that's for sure._

"It makes sense!" Evidently, this revelation meant more to Sarah, because she fell on top of me and hugged me. I could've swore the therapist looked amused, the very corners of her mouth twitching. "I'm not crazy at all!" She squealed. Wait, what? Did we change subjects when I wasn't looking? Whether or not we had, Sarah was convinced something big had just happened.

"Excuse us." I stood up with Sarah still clinging to me. "She needs a bit of fresh air." She clung to me all the way out of the building. Only then did I pry her off and turn her elated face towards mine. "_What_ are you going on about?" I intended it to be a serious question, but because of her face it came out as amused.

"I'm not crazy! Neither of us is!"

"Obviously. But you're acting like it." Something clicked in my mind. "Is this about your self-esteem issues? I already told you that you weren't crazy."

"I know. But now I know _why_. I know the causes. I know the issues. I know that it's not unique! That changes the whole thing!"

"We've found the source of one of your issues." That was good news of course—but not _that_ good. _Everything moves fast for her!_ I looked at her beaming face again._ Hell_,_ maybe I should join the club._

"But it makes everything else much more obvious!" I quickly realized we'd crossed into one of those areas where we didn't think alike. I didn't see it, but apparently Sarah had seen something clearly big and worth celebrating. She always had the good ideas, so there may have been some truth to it. She'd tell me when she calmed down. There wasn't much more I could do if she'd gone that far.

"Okay." I conceded, taking my hands off her shoulders. "Then what should we do now?" For the first time, she calmed down.

"I want to go back to the apartment." She admitted. Then she looked uncomfortable. "I got a little too excited." She folded her hands over waist and started back for the office. "Can you go tell her we're leaving early while I pee? Thanks!" She went back inside before I answered.

"I might as well wear a dog collar." I laughed at my own joke before heading back inside. Why not? Just because I didn't know what the hell was going on didn't mean I had to work against it. According to the clock in the waiting room, we still had a full hour and twenty minutes before we were due back at the apartment. When I poked my head back in the office, the therapist was waiting patiently as always.

"Is everything okay, Mr. Haskett?" She asked.

"Yeah, but we're going to cut things short today." I explained awkwardly. "Sarah had some sort of realization and wants to go home." The therapist nodded.

"That happens frequently." She admitted. She dealt with all sorts of weird stuff. "We can resume at the most convenient time." She assured.

"Okay, thanks." I hung in the doorway for a few seconds; something was nagging my brain. "Can I ask something Mrs...?" I suddenly realized that I'd forgotten her name.

"Trice." She supplied.

"Right, sorry." I went on. "How many sessions do it usually take for people to overcome their issues?"

"It varies." She answered. "Some take multiple sessions that last for years. Some take a few months worth. Others have solved their issues in just half of their first session."

"Wow, so I guess the whole 'third perspective' thing has something to do with that?" I didn't wait for an answer. "Thank you, then. We might be back eventually." I wasn't sure of that at the moment. She nodded.

"You both have a good day." She began to put her notes away when I closed the door. For someone who didn't have a lot of emotion in her voice, she was surprisingly good at getting a message across, especially in Sarah's case.

I decided just to wait outside for Sarah. I made the mistake of leaving my back to the door, which gave Sarah the perfect opportunity to jump on me as soon as she came out. I staggered under her weight while she laughed.

"What's gotten into you?" I gasped before finding a way to stand with her weight on me.

"Take me home." She ordered airily. For a wonder, I did that without arguing or asking questions too. She rested her head on my shoulder.

"So" I grunted two blocks later. "Mind telling me what's so great?"

"Maybe later." She murmured. I still didn't press her for answers. By the time I carried her back to the apartment, we had about 50 minutes left before the trucks arrived to carry everyone to the next meeting. Everyone else must've been getting ready, because there was no one in the halls. I had to duck just to get through the doorway.

"Well." I said as I set Sarah down on the bed. "Since we got most of an hour—ah!" Sarah cut me off by sitting up and seizing my shirt. "What's with you?" The last part came out muffled since she was dragging my shirt off over my head. A minute later, I didn't care anymore.

Half an hour later, I partially regained my focus. "What the hell's gotten into you?" I panted, trying to pull my uniform back on quickly.

"Just... some... pent up... energy." Sarah still sounded as giddy as before.

"Was there a memo I missed? What—?" I stood up and stumbled, exhausted. I realized I needed water and stumbled to the kitchen. Some nice cold water cleared my head and got me back into a thinking mood. When I got back, Sarah was humming on the bed.

"You should get dressed. We've got to leave soon." I reminded her. Whatever the hell was going through her mind, I knew I'd hear it eventually. So I decided to switch focus.

"Hmm." Sarah pondered. "Oh! Right." She jumped up. While she was busy getting dressed, there was a knock on the door. Probably our cue to leave.

"We'll be out in a minute!" I called through the door, quickly checking that I'd locked it when we came in. It wasn't, but whoever had knocked wasn't coming in, so I relaxed.

"Ready." Sarah finally called. When I turned to answer her, I stopped and stared.

"Sarah...you're pants are on backwards." She stared at me for a few moments before looking down. Sighing, I realized that whatever just happened was going to interfere with work, even if we'd agreed not to let anything of the sort happen again. I admitted defeat, but it could be worse. She wasn't breaking down completely; she was... having a reverse breakdown? Hell if I know what the proper term was.

I approached her and gently guided her back to the bed. "Tell you what. You lay down for a while and rest." I offered. _And get your head straight._ She always did eventually, I just had to wait. "I'll take care of whatever is at the meeting."

"Okay." She answered simply, rolling herself in the blanket. "I love you." I patted her on the back.

"Get some rest." I repeated. There was another knock on the door. "I'm coming!" I yelled. After making sure I had everything, I walked out and locked the door behind me. When I turned around, I found myself face to face with Kim.

"Isn't Sarah coming?" She frowned. Stone, who'd been walking by with a few members of the bomber crew, stopped by and listened.

_You both should mind your own goddamn business._ I thought inwardly. "She's not feeling well, so it's just me going. I can represent us both anyway." I hoped that would've sent them both on their way, but of course it didn't. I was never that lucky. But then I did catch a break, though; that was something.

"Go on to the trucks." Stone ordered Kim. She'd always been the obedient type, but her cheeks flushed at the words, and clearly she didn't like it as she left. When she was gone, Stone turned back to me. "Anything serious?" I respected the old man, but we never really talked anything beyond business. But, for whatever reason, I suddenly felt that I could be a little more truthful.

"The stress is kind of getting to her." That wasn't the entire truth, but it wasn't a lie either; the life and the fighting was starting to grate on her. "We're getting out of this gig after the war's over—" I didn't even register that Stone was now the first and only person we'd informed of that plan—"and ... well..." I didn't have to continue, because Stone was nodding.

"You both stay here today. That's an order." Stone surprised me. "I'll make sure any important information is sent back to you."

"Oh. Err...thanks." I suddenly realized why I believed I could be more truthful: he'd probably dealt with the same thing with other pilots, or maybe even himself. "It isn't anything bad." I assured quickly. Sarah had said she wanted to finish the war first. She'd probably kill me if I got us kicked out for psychological problems. "She just needs some time to breathe."

"Everyone does, eventually." Stone acknowledged. He started to turn. "Take the day off." He repeated and started walking.

_Good man. Not many of them left_. Veterans were a strange breed, but I hoped they'd find some way to stick around after the war was over. I unlocked the door and handed back inside. "What an interesting day it's been!" I said loudly, not sure in Sarah could hear me. When I walked over to the bed, I realized she'd fallen asleep. She looked peaceful, and the same dreamy look was still plastered on her face. "Life with you is always interesting." I rubbed her back over the covers. When she stirred, I took my hand off for fear of waking her. "But we'll get through it. Not today... But we'll get through it."

X James X

Most standard Rubinelle army divisions consisted of four combined-arms brigades—one armored, one infantry, and two mechanized, a separate helicopter brigade, and a number of smaller battalions organized primarily for supporting tasks. Usually, the infantry brigade would have a battalion trained and equipped for air assault operations for use to gain tactical or strategic objectives. That was what we were becoming to the Battalion, albeit on an obviously smaller scale. There wasn't a big ceremony once we'd all arrived, just a simple one to formally acknowledge Lieutenant Anson as the leader of the group and a new designation for our group to go by.

All seven ground components—six companies and two platoons organized as one unit—would be designated based on the standard military alphabet—Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and so on. The combined-arms companies would be A, B, and C. The tank companies would be D and E. The Marine company would be F, and the Special Forces would be G (It had been decided to give them a separate call sign, even though we were organized as a single unit). And finally, we would be H. Radio call signs were broken down by platoon or squad level from there. How much it helped in the field had yet to be seen, but the exact same organization had worked very well before the meteors.

Despite the massive rearrangement of infantry, tanks, and other vehicles for the main companies, we weren't affected that much by the equipment re-distribution. Since we'd drawn our supplies from Special Forces stocks—not to mention that the other two components were already largely trained and equipped for action behind enemy lines—we essentially kept all our gear and weapons. But we got some new equipment as well.

Seven Humvees, kept by the Battalion or given to us by the NRA, were being given to the command—five to the Special Forces and two to us. Being relatively easy to airlift, they could be taken behind enemy lines and used for fire-support, communications, transportation, or evacuation of casualties—it would be of great benefit to us. After all official business had been completed, each new formation was released to begin orientation. For our unit, we didn't have to bother with learning new technologies or battlefield abilities; we simply had to learn to use the new equipment. For that purpose, we'd relocated to a barren field not too far from the HQ.

Since everyone had knowledge on firearms, we decided to focus first on the use of the M2 machine gun attached to the roof. We were split into four groups, two to a Humvee. Everyone learned how to fire, reload, and maintain the heavy gun. My squad and I were in the first group, and I was pleased at how quickly they all picked up the information, all of them being able to reload in around ten seconds and fire accurately in short and controlled bursts on a makeshift firing range. In the field, that gun would be important against enemy infantry attacks, and maybe even helicopters.

While we waited for the next group to conclude their lesson, I paused at a nearby fence and looked to the training field on the other side. There were two groups training there as well; one practicing on an obstacle course, and the other one doing PT. I'd seen the same group earlier; after a few inquiries, I found out that they were the civilians we had saved about a year ago.

When we'd finally gotten to the shelter, three-fourths of the civilians that had taken up arms to help the Battalion fight the raiders had retired; about 90 people, most of them whom we'd actually trained, stayed on as full-time soldiers. The civilians had gotten some time to adjust and recover when they got here, but that time had come to an end; the military government wasn't going to settle for all of them going into the factories, and had demanded that some of them to fill uniforms. As a result, those two hundred experienced militia and around a hundred more had started crash course infantry training. Once they were fully trained and assimilated, the Battalion's mechanized infantry component would have doubled, and the tank companies would become combined-arms companies as well. It would help the Battalion, no doubt, but seeing that some of the civilians were kids who had been too young to help a year ago reminded me of my conflicting feelings on the subject; thinking of family wouldn't help me. I'd made a point all these years to focus on my job so I wouldn't mess up on account of being distracted. _That mindset has helped me survive up to now, and it would help me survive this war._ I could sort things out then.

When the second group was done, everyone returned to the Humvees. "Now that we all understand its offensive capabilities, we're going to learn how to maintain them." Lieutenant Anderson declared. Besides us and the former Coast Guard personnel, most of our members had little or no mechanical knowledge or experience, so we had to start from the ground up. This lasted several hours, excluding lunch. By the time everyone had some basic knowledge of the engine worked and how to change a tire in just a minute, we were all growing weary.

"All right, that's enough." Lieutenant Anderson finally declared. "We don't have to do all this in one day."

"We made good progress." Lieutenant Anson confirmed. "We will finish tomorrow. All the sergeants will stay. The rest of you, return to the barracks." The platoon scattered, until only us sergeants and the two lieutenants remained.

"Gather round!" Anderson called. As we did so, Lieutenant Anson began to speak

"It was been decided to divide the unit into two groups of three squads each, with Anderson and I having a group each." Anson explained. "Should the need arise, both helicopters can drop the platoon far apart without reducing our combat efficiency. Coleman—" He pointed to me—"Riddoch, and Mellor will be with me. Coleman, Collins, and Garcia will be with Anderson. Everyone understands?" We all nodded.

"Good." Lieutenant Anderson continued. "Now, about the issue we discussed yesterday, we've reached a decision. Until we're deployed, the platoon will constantly practice squad covering tactics in some of the training environments set up in the Capital here. When we go into the field, everyone's back should be covered. This should hopefully reduce casualties to zero." We nodded in agreement.

"And lastly, keep in mind that we may have to change quarters." Lieutenant Anson announced. "This is mainly to stay closer to our parent unit for the sake of easier communication and cooperation, as well as for safety concerns." Everyone glanced at each other upon hearing that last bit. After the failed mutiny, 'safety' translated as 'not in the crossfire of the NRA's problems'. "So remember that we may need to relocate all our men and equipment." He waited until we nodded. "We must stay to discuss several things with senior officers. You can return to the barracks." Salutes were exchanged, and we all left the rudimentary training area.

"It's going to be a long day tomorrow." Riddoch thought out loud.

"Yeah, but at least the rest of the war will be short." Peter responded. After all this time, I still couldn't help but wonder exactly how long 'short' was.

"And what happens after that?" I wondered out loud. Peter and I glanced at each other. The others didn't know what we meant.

"They probably still need a military for peace keeping." Mellor guessed. "Peacekeepers since we'd be a developing country again."

"Yeah, and then maybe we can get our old jobs back." Riddoch added. "For all we know, there could be a piracy epidemic after the war." They both sounded enthusiastic about it. If there was going to be a military after the war ended, I wasn't sure if I wanted to be in it, peace keeping force or not. Since I'd joined in the first place to protect people, I didn't really understand why; people would still need protection.

_Do I still want to do this?_ It's the idea I'd began on... but now I was starting to have doubts. _What do I want—besides the war ending, of course? _

I wasn't sure.


	49. Chapter 48

X James X

"Put your backs into it!" Lieutenant Anderson shouted. "It isn't that heavy!" With its armor and weapons, as well as the supplies we'd packed into it, each Humvee weighed roughly 7,000 pounds. Anderson was the only one who didn't seem breathless from the chore of moving them by hand—pushing from the back and sides and pulling from the front by ropes. This was meant to save precious gas, and serve as a bit of physical fitness training.

"These tires don't turn so well." one of the unlucky men doing the task grunted. Fourteen were assigned to moving each Humvee, and the rest carried weapons, ammo, and other supplies on their backs. The order to change quarters had arrived just as our day began—before everyone was even fully dressed—which meant that the day would be spent moving two heavy combat vehicles through craters and decaying streets that made every mile feel like a dozen.

What made the march less dull was that the lieutenants took turns describing combat situations and what use the Humvees would serve. After each lecture, they'd randomly quiz a random soldier on what they'd just heard. No one got an answer wrong. By the time the next battle rolled around, we'd be as adapt and proficient with them as we were with our guns.

After a full hour of slogging, we were allowed to halt and rest. The men on Humvee-pulling/pushing duty slumped down against the vehicle, and the rest of us sat down on the cracked sidewalk. Everyone pulled out their canteens and sipped water, while some people talked to each other.

"Hey, Lieutenant!" a soldier called to Anson. "Who will crew the Humvees?" I wondered the same myself, but didn't pursue it because I expected an explanation once everyone knew how to use the vehicles. Surprisingly enough, he answered the question.

"Each squad will take turns in using them." Anson explained. "That squad will receive separate tasks in the field. That answers your question, private?"

"Yes, sir." the questioning soldier quickly nodded. The rest of the break was spent in silence. When the time came to continue moving, we had to rouse a few who had been smart enough to get a few moments of sleep during the break—it was a soldier's skill that was very useful, and which they were learning. Three hours later, we stopped as we reached the streets that were too crowded by heavy armor to move.

The lieutenants went ahead to the HQ to learn where we would store the vehicles, leaving us to guard them. We set up a perimeter with a squad at each end of the street and the rest around the Humvees. My squad was one of the latter, guarding the second Humvee.

"Can't wait to roll these things onto the field." Sam tried to start idle conversation while we waited. Half of his torso was wrapped in bandages under his uniform, so he wasn't carrying as much as everyone else. It was crude, but he could still move. "Going to mow those fuckers down." He beat a fist into his palm.

"Easy there." I warned. Humvees were not all that durable. Driving them straight into the open would get them reduced to flaming hunks. Sam wasn't that careless though, I certainly hoped.

"I'm just eager to get a chance to kill these bastards." Sam went on.

"What do you have against them?" I asked. Sam had never done anything unreasonable in the field, but in his off-hours he never saw it as a necessary business like the rest of us. _War shouldn't be anything beyond that. _He seemed genuinely intent on killing Lazurians.

"What did they do to you?" His somewhat savage grin turned into a scowl, and he leaned back on the side of the Humvee. He worked his jaw for a minute then looked back on me.

"You ever heard of Grainton Island, Jimmy boy?" He asked.

"Grainton... Island?" I repeated, working my brain. "Sounds kind of familiar, but no, not off the top of my head." I admitted. Without even asking, Sam told me.

"It was a little island near the middle of the Channel. Nice, small farming island, really. I grew up there." His voice changed to a more relaxed tone. "There were beaches and fields to play in, and you could never get bored. It was so small, I knew every other kid on the island: the two Henderson boys, the Bellcroft girl, all seven Calusen kids. Everyone knew everyone." And then, as sure as I'd ever heard him, he rattled off ten different first names. "We were all friends for years." He sounded anguished.

"What happened?" I asked, genuinely curious. Sam never discussed his past. None of us really did, but we'd always been curious because of his attitude.

"Those motherfucking blue assholes, that's what!" Sam didn't speak; he shouted, and every member of the platoon jumped. Further down the street, a sergeant poked his head out of his Abram's cupola to investigate the noise.

"Sam, calm down!" He looked absolutely angry now and was breathing hard. I pondered for a moment about taking his rifle, but then he calmed down.

"Sorry, sorry." He waved. "Shit just pisses me off, you know?" He slumped back against the Humvee. "We all had to leave the island, because Lazuria was getting all testy over it. They even lobbed a couple of shells over, those motherfuckers! This was right after the war, so the government didn't want to make a big deal. I never saw any of them again." he informed me. "Ever."

"That's... rough, man." I admitted, feeling genuinely sorry for him. That was why he was so aggressive: he had a personal score to settle. To me, this was just... It was... _What is this job to me?_

"What's going on?" Peter had come over to investigate. Sam clearly was done talking, so I just waved him away and said I'd tell him later. Fortunately, it distracted me from what I'd been thinking. Sam wandered back off and we resumed uneventful guard duty for another ten minutes before the lieutenants returned.

"Listen up!" Lieutenant Anderson boomed. "Our new quarters will be on the 15th floor of the hotel. Rooms will be assigned later. We've been told to store the Humvees in a nearby underground parking garage. However, we'll carry out today's exercise first, in the same location as before. We're moving there now." he ordered. With a few suppressed groans, the haulers got back on their ropes and the rest got back in the loose formation around the Humvees.

At the same agonizingly slow pace, we pulled the Humvees back a few streets and came into another road that put us in the same barren field we'd trained in yesterday. The ropes were untied from the Humvee and gear was piled up beside them. Everyone gathered in formation and waited for orders on what to do.

"We'll continue yesterday's lesson on maintenance." Lieutenant Anson announced.

"If equipment is going to break anywhere, it'll be on the battlefield." Anderson warned. "And the difference between it being your equipment or becoming your coffin depends on your ability to fix it then and there. Now, how many people here have any form of mechanical training?" he asked. Many hands went up, including mine. "Well, it's a start." he admitted, "but I can already guarantee you it won't help much. This is a military combat vehicle, not your parent's car. It's very different." Lieutenant Anson took over.

"The platoon will split into five groups today, each under a former member of the 18th." That meant Peter, Sam, the lieutenants, and I would have to train a group each. "Each group will be taught engine maintenance from this member. Any group waiting for their turn will repeat yesterday's lessons or do some PT. Questions? Then let's begin." After that, they organized us all into groups. My group, consisted mostly of men from the Coast Guard, was among the first two picked. The Humvee was a vehicle so common and so essential that every infantry soldier received some sort of training in them. Like yesterday, I was a little rusty on my knowledge, but it all came back to me once I began to teach them. Most of the men in my group had mechanical knowledge of ship engines, which was similar on the very basic levels. A Humvee's engine was compact, complicated, and hard to access, so we would have to manage.

During the time that was allotted to us, most of the group managed to memorize the location and function of most of the parts. After that, we had to let the other groups have their turn and come back to it later. We made progress, at the very least. The next task we dedicated ourselves to was reviewing yesterday's lesson on the M2 machine gun. We could actually fire it, but everyone took turns reloading the weapon and fixing simulated problems instead. I sat on the roof of the Humvee and observed each of them, noting with satisfaction that everyone was very proficient.

"Sergeant?" I turned when a soldier spoke behind me. It was one of the PFCs from Sam's squad, and he had a slightly confused look on his face. I climbed down to meet him.

"What is it, Private?" I asked. Did one of the lieutenants want something?

"There are two civilians asking for you at the fence." he explained. Civilians? Who would come all the way out here and ask for us?

"Okay, Private, back to your post." When he left, I turned around to face the rusted and failing fence that partially protected part of the lot. When I did, the shock froze me in place for several seconds and I even forgot what was going on behind me. Then, I found myself unconsciously moving towards where my brother was standing. "Peter..." I resisted the urge to look away from the two black-haired individuals, one short and the other tall one in uniform, watching us from outside the fence.

"Wha—" Peter turned around and froze when he saw what I saw. "Victoria? And... Is that Chester?" he asked. I'd only seen his face that one short time, but I immediately recognized it anyway.

"Yeah..." I confirmed. "What are they doing here? HOW did they get here? We're miles from the civilian housing area!" I gritted my teeth.

"Relatives?" The voice of Lieutenant Anson guessed behind us, and we both turned to find that he'd snuck up behind us and was looking at our relatives with his arms crossed.

"Yes, sir." I replied awkwardly. "Cousins." I explained. _Our civilian and professional lives shouldn't be mixed up like this! _Anson stared towards them, tapping on his arm the whole time. There was never any easy way to tell what he thought, and the goggles and mask he wore made it downright impossible. When he finally spoke, it wasn't in the same flat, orderly tone as usual, but in an odd and different tone we couldn't place.

"Take a thirty-minute break, sergeants. That's an order." He turned and walked away immediately after finishing the sentence. Part of us should've questioned that order. Should've.

_Well, orders are orders. Besides, something might have happened, after all._ Peter and I both jogged around to the exit without a single word. They both saw us coming and Victoria waved excitedly.

"_What_ are you two doing here?" I asked, trying and failing to be angry at them at the same time.

"We came to visit!" Victoria huffed indignantly. "Aren't you happy to see us?" She stared both of us down. Chester, on the other hand, avoided looking at the two of us. Peter cut in before things escalated.

"Yes, we are," he started before looking at Chester, "both of you." He reached forward and put his hands on Chester's shoulders, making him look up. I moved forward and put my hand on his left shoulder. "It's good to finally see you."

"You guys too." he spoke up, sounding awkward. Unlike us, his voice still had a slight accent from the state we all came from. "Ya'll look a lot different than I remember." He looked a lot more resigned than the last time. Had something happened? He looked unsure for a moment and then hugged both of us.

"Did you put him up to it?" I turned my attention back to Victoria.

"Maybe." She looked the other way, rocking on her heels.

_She really isn't a kid anymore._It still shocked me every time I realized how much had changed while we were in the Army. "Let's walk around a bit." I suggested. We were still near the lot, and the platoon was starting to notice. Were they jealous? I was sure most of them didn't have friends or family to return to. For now, I had to make something out of this chance to resolve one of my nagging problems.

As we started walking, I realized the same issue existed as when we'd gone out with Victoria: we knew nothing about them. The only thing we had in common was that we were family—but this was an opportunity we couldn't waste.

"So when'd you join?" I asked.

"It was at least five months ago." he admitted. "I started out in a transport crew, but when they kept getting destroyed they bumped me up to fighter training. Marine Corps." He proudly motioned to his uniform. "All you guys could get in was the Army." And he grinned. By the look on Victoria's face, she hadn't seen such a thing in ages.

"Don't act so tough with us," I warned, slipping into a joking mood, "you're just a fly boy." His casual use of military humor showed just how far he had gone, but it was something familiar to us, at least. He laughed.

"Sure. But yeah, I got the crash course for flying fighters. Didn't learn everything till I actually flew, though." After that, he started to look sick. We gave him a reassuring pat on the back and he continued. "They put me in a squadron in the 3rd MAG. We got deployed to the Channel to help protect the islands there." I'd seen the look on his face before, during my own basic training and when we'd tried recruiting some civilians. It was regret mingled with horror.

"Was pretty rough, right?" I guessed.

"Yeah." he admitted quietly. "I uh... I didn't hold up that well." He hung his head down. Peter and I dropped back so we could each put an arm on his shoulder.

"Not everyone is cut out for it." We assured him. "Even for the people who are, it can get stressful. Anything bad in particular happened that you want to tell us?" He shook his head.

"No, just... The whole thing stressed me out." he admitted. "All the violence, it just got to me. I made a lot of friends there, and they ain't here no more. It just put me in a bad mood." He scratched his head awkwardly. "I guess Victoria already told you guys how I acted about it."

"He already said he was sorry." Victoria spoke up.

"When she told me you guys were here, I didn't believe her at first. Then I actually SAW you and... I just wanted to see you guys again." He looked at each of us, as if still surprised we were here.

"That's why he finally came home." Victoria sang smugly. "It really is good for you two to be back." she added.

"Well, we're definitely here." Peter assured. "We intend to stay once things are over too."

"Yeah... the NRA radio keeps saying things are almost over." Chester nodded. That rumor was spreading around, and evidence did support it. But it was too soon to say.

"Where are you deployed right now?" I asked.

"We're just stuck here for now." Chester answered. "They've been kind of slow re-organizing the Marine aircraft since the whole spat in the Channel."

"So that means all four of us can hang out!" Victoria declared happily. It wasn't just Peter and I that exchanged glances, Chester did too. He may have been ill-suited to the job, but he knew its limits. The focus of the conversation changed quickly, and so did the mood.

"We can all get together sometime soon." I risked cautiously. Like last time, the truth proved to be a bad answer.

"Why not now?" Victoria demanded, causing us to stop. I suddenly started dreading how this would turn out.

"You saw them: they're busy working." Chester answered her. "They have their jobs to do, too. I told you before; you can't try and rush things that take time. You—"

"I don't want to wait anymore!" Now she screamed. "I want everything back to how it was!" I'd been surprised at how much she seemed to have matured, but now she stomped her feet like a child. "I hate all of you!" With that, she stormed off, as if she seriously intended to walk all the way home by herself. The thought made me panic; after the other day, the Capital seemed nearly as dangerous as a battlefield. But all I could do was to stare.

"Sorry guys, really." Chester stuttered, moving after Victoria and trying to face us. "She's been like this for a while. She'll calm down eventually. We can all ha—" He looked behind him and his eyes bulged when he realized how far away Victoria had gone. He started running after her, not saying anything else. The whole thing happened in just half a minute and left Peter and I rooted to our spots, stunned.

"Should we... follow them?" I asked, unsure.

"I don't think so." Peter shook his head reluctantly. "Like what Chester said, she'll calm down eventually..."

"That was one of the few chances we had to talk with them though..." I was glad to have finally talked to Chester, and I felt surprisingly better even if we had barely gotten anywhere.

"We'll have a lot of time soon enough." Peter sounded like he was assuring himself as much as I. By silent agreement, we started walking back to the training lot.

"Victoria really is upset about everything." I admitted. _But what can we do?_ Nothing that would be of immediate use, as far as I could tell. So far, trying to interact with them hadn't had that many positive results... because of our job. Mixing both of them probably was a bad idea, and I should've approached each thing separately.

_But then...wh__ich one is more important?_

X Tim X

I rarely started a new day with work, but we'd have to catch up otherwise things would get backed up, so I cleared my throat and read. "Our new call sign is 'Fang 1'. We are assigned to Company A. Its commander is a captain named Barnes. He wrote a note for us." I picked the piece of handwritten paper from the folder Stone had brought back for us and read it. "'I am disappointed that I could not meet the people I'm going to entrust the lives of my men to. I hope to be able to do so soon.'" I put the sheet back. "Not a good first impression." I didn't get a response. "Are you even listening?"

"Hmm?" Sarah raised her head off her arms. "Yeah. Fang 1. Company A." She yawned and laid her head back down. She was still in a daze even after a day, and hadn't gotten up from bed at all since we woke.

"Are you going to at least help me pack?" I asked in exasperation. I didn't really see WHY we had to move, but when Stone had told me this morning, he warned it wasn't negotiable. Sarah gave no response. Grunting, I went over to dresser and started packing. I had been tolerant yesterday; things seemed promising. Now everything was starting to grow really annoying. I only had a meager supply of clothes, so I got those packed in two minutes. Since Sarah obviously wasn't going to do it, I would have to pack to large number of clothes she'd collected since we got here.

"We've seen a lot in our lives, haven't we?" Sarah spoke behind me while I began to pack.

"Yeah." I agreed without looking at her.

"We never quite forgot any of it." she commented. I quickly caught on that this was meant to go somewhere, so I changed my attitude.

"I guess not." I answered conversationally.

"It affects who we are now, doesn't it?" she went on. Most of what she was saying was rephrased from what she'd found out yesterday.

"Yeah. That's what you realized yesterday, isn't it?" I asked. I stopped my work and turned to face her; we were getting somewhere with this. _About damn time._

"Yeah." she confirmed. "And it got me thinking." I walked over to the bed and sat down beside her.

"Go on." I prompted. She kicked her feet for a few moments before shaking her head.

"Never mind. It's probably a stupid idea." she looked in the opposite direction.

"Everything you say sounds stupid." I pointed out. She swung her head back with a mock glare at me. "But it usually has a point to it." I finished. She tried not to smile.

"I still think I'll keep it to myself." She turned her nose up at me. So close to a breakthrough, yet so far!

"What if I say 'please'?" I asked. Sarah looked back over to me for a brief moment.

"No." She swung her head back.

"What if I give you a back rub?" I reached over and started rubbing between her shoulders.

"Keep your hands high and maybe." she teased. With a dramatic sigh, I moved back and started with both hands. She sighed from the treatment. "Thank you."

"If I pack the rest your things for you, will you tell me?" She laughed at that.

"And give you a free ticket to rummage through my underwear drawer? Nice try." She looked thoughtful for a moment then sat up. "But I guess I'll tell you if you're that interested."

"I'm listening." I held my eagerness in place in case she changed her mind again. She fiddled with her hair before speaking.

"What I was thinking was that I've been a complete idiot." She started, prompting me to slap my hand to my face.

"Not this again!"

"What?" Sarah looked at me in confusion. "I'm not crazy. I'm just stupid."

"You're still beating yourself up. I've always told you that you were just fine." I patted her head, which made her swat my hand away.

"I was stupid. We're both idiots, actually."

"Because we base everything on something that happened years ago?" I was still having a hard time understanding that. _The pa__st is past; it doesn't really matter._

"Exactly!" Sarah rolled over so she was sitting on my lap and facing me. She leaned in as close to my face as she could. "We're biased. We _say_ we don't think about it, but we do. That's why you're anti-social and I'm a paranoid emotional wreck!" The way she was getting close to me, my mind was beginning to wander from what should've been a serious discussion. Trying to keep my mind (and body) on the subject, I answered, "That's something we should be able to work on in therapy, right?"

"We can work on it ourselves!" She leaned forward far enough to end up pushing me back onto the bed. "That was my idea." At this point, our foreheads were touching, and Sarah seemed to be flying off the handle again. I sat back up and pushed her back just a few inches.

"All right, all right, I'm listening." Just as quickly as she'd got up, she crashed back down on to the bed.

"Well... I was thinking we could... start over." She said the last part quietly.

"Start over?" I asked in confusion. "How does that work?" I asked.

"Well... It fits with what we've been talking about getting a house, jobs, and all that. We'd be resetting our lifestyles." She bit her lip. "And I was thinking we could... reset our personalities too." Sitting in my lap, she stared at me, watching for my reaction.

"You lost me." I admitted. 'Reset our personalities'? _What? Is this some kind of video game?_ Maybe there was some sort of spiritual thing to that, but I didn't see it.

"What I mean is... well... This made sense in my head." she admitted and leaned back to think. "Umm..." she perked back up, "think of it like this: we both have a base we compare people and things to when we encounter them. In my case, it's my father. In yours, it's the orphanage. These things are bad, and so they make us think _other people and things_ are bad." She titled her head to the side. "We need... a new base ...I think."

"Eh... I kind of get what you mean." I scratched my head, wondering if I really did. "We should actually forget our pasts this time, right?"

"I... think?" Sarah blinked and then got up. "Give me a few more days to think about it, please?"

"I'm not going to stop you." I quickly shook my head. She leaned down and kissed me.

"Thank you. Let me just finish packing and we can leave." While she continued packing, I lay down and thought about what I'd heard. I didn't compare things to the orphanage... or did I? I tried to recall one instance in the past year and couldn't. _Makes sense that I would though; that and this type of hell... Okay, that's one time._

"Hey, Sarah." I asked. "You said you think about the good parts of our life there a lot, but how often do you think about the bad stuff?" I had a curious thought: I thought about the bad things when I thought of anything at all, but I never thought about the _good_ things, even if I had a few. Sarah though, apparently always had.

"A lot." Sarah admitted quietly after a moment, surprising me. "When most of my day is always spent either sitting on the toilet or bent over for you, it was pretty hard not to." she explained with her typical bluntness. "I probably always think about the good stuff just to balance it out." Ignoring my usual discomfort at the subject, I risked a question.

"You really think you can 'set a new 'base' with all those reminders?" She took a long time to answer.

"Don't know, but I'll damn well try." She closed the last luggage case forcefully. "Mind helping me to carry these?" We would come back to that later, then.

"How is it that you have three bags worth of clothes?" I asked, walking over and grabbing one along with my own.

"Two." She corrected, picking the other ones. "The other is holding my personal items and some of the food we had."

"Which are buried under your clothes." I finished.

"Shut up." Sarah huffed. "You don't complain when you're taking them off." She stopped and stared around. "I know we weren't here long... but I'm going to miss this place." she admitted. She didn't have to say why.

"We'll get a new one eventually." I assured. "Maybe a real house this time." Sarah smiled slightly.

"Let's go." We headed for the door. I wasn't regretful about leaving, but I did admit it had been nice. We jogged down the stairs and joined the rest of Air Wing outside on the curb next to a giant heap of luggage. We stood together while we waited, and stayed quiet even though everyone else was chatting away. It made things seem nicer to us.

The ride to the hotel was cramped, since room had to be given to luggage. Sarah sat in my lap the entire way. We both noticed—Hell, everyone noticed—when Kim and Eddie did the same. _Heh, hope your legs up to it. _Stone was in the same truck, but he didn't comment even though technically it was against regulations. Maybe the old man was getting soft, because he definitely would've said something two years ago.

Twenty minutes later we were in the waiting line in the lobby, and ten minutes after that we were on the floor we'd been assigned. The new arrangement had called for pairs to a room, so Sarah and I had been paired together. Compared to the NRA, the 12th Battalion was pretty orderly, so I was surprised they allowed that.

"Pretty big." I commented when we walked inside. It was about a little over half the size of the apartment. But since it didn't have a kitchen or a dining room, it looked a lot bigger. Both of us tossed our bags on the bed and looked around. There was a big, very comfy looking bed, and a large screen T.V. in front of it. The room had a couch and lamp in the corner. And it had a big window that gave a pretty damn good view of the Capital, even if parts of it were destroyed. Everything was quite dusty, obviously, but it was actually kind of nice.

"Not bad, huh?" I asked Sarah after she came out from inspecting the bathroom.

"No, not at all." she agreed. "They even stocked the room. It's cheap stuff, I mean, but at least they cared enough." Both of us started unpacking our things after having a look around. Getting back into our personal business would've been unpleasant, so I talked about our professional business.

"Think we should go meet this Captain Barnes guy?" I asked. "We'll be working only with these people, might be a good idea to get to know them." I suggested.

"It's hard thinking about business so much when you just know it'll be over soon." Sarah remarked. I didn't respond. "But I guess you're right; they will be the ones looking out for us. Just let me finish putting my clothes away, okay?" I was done, but she still had another full bag.

"All right." I agreed. While she did that, I thought about what to say, since my etiquette with officers had never been good, if it existed at all. To my surprise, I suddenly realized Sarah was right. Given what I'd been thinking about the last few days, thinking about talking about military matters seemed strange to me, and I got pretty much nowhere in those two minutes or so of waiting.

"We going?" Sarah came up to me.

"...Yeah." I decided I'd just decide on the spot. "Why do you think he wants to meet us?" I asked as we left the room.

"The way the re-organization was planned is that each aircraft is now under the direct command of a particular company unless Captain Brenner detaches them. I guess he just wants to meet his new subordinates." Sarah guessed. That made sense.

"As long as he doesn't get too pushy and doesn't give any idiotic orders, that shouldn't be a problem." I decided as we stepped into the elevator. Once we got to the lobby, we started finding the guy. There only being six Army captains in a sea of a thousand Army people, tracking down a particular one should've been easy, but it wasn't. Finally, one of the lieutenants we managed to stop directed us outside to where the tanks were.

"It'll be the Abrams with the extra antennas." he'd told us. That made things simple, since only a few Abrams had them. Once outside, the first time was a bust, but the second time we got it.

"Is this Captain Barnes' tank?" I asked a mechanic working on the massive machine.

"Yes, it is." A voice answered. We both looked up and saw a man climb out of the tank and drop down to face us. Most captains usually weren't past 40, but this guy looked old and wrinkly, not to mention banged up. It was probably a result of his service. He was definitely a fighter, and that made me a bit more social. "I'm Captain Barnes, Company A commander. I assume you two are the attack helicopter pilots." We nodded and introduced ourselves. Sarah didn't even have to do it for me. "Glad to meet you, though I'm still wondering why it took so long." He was a fighter, but he was still a damn fanatic on courtesy.

"Personal issues." Sarah answered. "They've already been taken care of and won't be a problem again." She glanced at me quickly while saying that. "Since we're under your command, we wanted to ask what will be expected of us."

"Smart." The captain nodded, pleased. "Here's what I already got in my company. Keep in mind a vehicle platoon is usually four vehicles. I got a self-propelled artillery platoon, an anti-air platoon, two tank platoons, and nine APCs with a company of infantry to use them." He rattled off the numbers.

"And you'll want us to support the tanks or infantry, right?" I guessed.

"That's right." he nodded. "The standard battle plan is that the artillery will strike enemy positions before the tanks roll in. The tanks will charge in and eliminate any major opposition and the infantry will mop up behind them. The anti-air platoon will make sure neither of us gets attacked by enemy aircraft while the tanks and infantry accomplish their tasks. Where I want you depend on which stage of the plan we're executing."

"Well, we can destroy anything on land short of a War Tank." Sarah assured. That made Captain Barnes grimace.

"I'd prefer not to have those mentioned here." he admitted. "But if there are any targets in particular I want you to focus on, it'll be enemy tanks and artillery."

_ I guess they'll care of the AAA for us. That's nice._

"We can do that." Sarah nodded.

"Good." Captain Barnes nodded, and then extended a hand for both of us to shake. "We can continue later; I have to get back to work. I'm glad we had this discussion. You two definitely seem like people I want on my side." We left as he climbed back into the tank.

"That went well." Sarah sounded optimistic. "Everyone we've met in the Battalion so far has always been a decent person to work with." She looked around at the long line of tanks. "Kind of important since there's still a lot of work left to do."

"But it'll be out of the way soon as long as we focus." I reminded her.

"Right." Sarah agreed. "Let's just focus on what's left." And by silent agreement, we both went to check on our helicopter.

X The Presidential Palace X

Greyfield stared at the report in utter disgust. He could—Oh, he would!—have dismissed it as a fluke, a mistake. Indeed, it was only one report. The intelligence sources had failed before, and it could happen again. The idea of men—and women— operating out of his reach revolted him. _Project Foresight? Bah! What kind of idiot gives names like these! _In fact, he had been considering exposing many of the sources so that they'd never fail him again. And then came in the second report, from his Navy no less! He couldn't ignore it then, not with two sources saying the same thing.

"Those wretched dogs!" Greyfield flung the report down onto his desk. Lazuria was known for its backwards and dirty tricks; today was no exception. They were again trying to foil Greyfield's plans, but they'd failed this time—oh yes they had! Greyfield's superior strategy had allowed it to be discovered, and now those fools were vulnerable. Greyfield would deal with the intelligence sources later. For now, he would have to deal with the Lazurians first.

He reviewed the map several times, becoming increasingly agitated. It was as if nature had specifically designed the island to defend Lazuria, with the northernmost island being difficult to attack. Even more important, he'd have to act fast to keep things from getting worse. But this was an opportunity to completely destroy Lazuria's ability to deploy anywhere outside their continent, or perhaps even open a window for victory. Corners could definitely be cut here. Slowly and over the course of two hours, a plan began to form in Greyfield's mind.

"Brilliant!" he chuckled to himself. He hurriedly scribbled it all down. It looked even better on paper. His work done, he checked it over once more. It was a plan befitting to his talents and ability: one that would stop the Lazurian threat, preserve resources, and most of all likely eliminate those on his own side whom he considered a threat. "Perfect!" he thought aloud.

Next, Greyfield had to call the commanders for the units involved in his plan. He pressed the buzzer on his desk that signaled his guard outside the office. "Sheridan!" Greyfield waved over the stony man that was his trusted and unflinching bodyguard. Greyfield handed him a sheet of paper with the names of the three men he wanted to see. "These officers should still be in the Capital for the reorganization. Escort them here. And send Davis in!"

Davis had a small desk in the antechamber where he handled the paperwork and tasks far too trivial for Greyfield, so he shuffled in just a few seconds after Sheridan left. "Yes, Admiral Greyfield?" Davis asked timidly.

"Go down the docks!" Greyfield barked. "I want every available cargo vessel gathered there immediately. Do you understand?" Davis nodded. "Then go do it! Now!" Greyfield roared, and Davis fled from the room in terror. Greyfield returned to his paperwork till someone softly knocked on his door several minutes later. When Greyfield yelled for them to enter, a man wearing an ill-fitting Army dress uniform entered the room, walking with a slight limp to the chair in front of Greyfield's desk.

"So... General Walraven." Greyfield looked at the man distastefully. The man was weak; Greyfield could see it on him. The gray hair, the rings around the eyes... it was a pathetic sight. He was obviously unaccustomed to stress. The NRA didn't need leaders like him. Greyfield was considering reassigning him to lesser tasks, just as he'd reassigned all of the General Staff to more 'productive' work. _He would do better in the factories or in the farms, just like the rest of those worthless drones._ But now, a new opportunity presented itself for this pathetic man.

His command was just as pathetic. The two airborne 'regiments' he commanded barely totaled 4,000 troops together—and it had no armor to speak of. The same was true for other ground units in the NRA. They had to fold some into others just to create something resembling a fighting force. Aside from 'Brenner's Wolves' and the 49th 'Division', they managed to put together a full strength mechanized brigade from the tatters of the pitiful units that hadn't survived the Channel fighting. That was all that was left of the regular Army's ground forces—though they still had seventeen helicopters left, four of which were attack choppers.

The Marine Corps had been spread far and thin after the revolt by that battalion just a few days ago. Even thinking about it made Greyfield tremble with rage. How dare they try to defy him! _Fools, raising a mutiny for the sake of their stupid battalion commander? Pah!_ It_ was better such creatures were dead. _There was an MEU with the NRA's only fleet, and the other five Marine battalions, consisting purely of infantry, were spread out on islands near the middle of the Channel, where they could still stop Lazuria, though Greyfield has expressly forbidden them to return to Rubinelle. The Marine Aviation branch was also being dismantled.

Then there was the two Guards Brigades. Greyfield had personally reorganized the militia forces into them, and sacked the pathetic Army officers who should have run them. Now, they answered to his orders alone. He ensured the two units were fully equipped with weapons and vehicles—a self-propelled artillery battalion, three mechanized infantry battalions, and a heavy tank battalion each, all complete. Even if they'd lost a tenth of their men fighting those stupid Marines, there was still at least 9,000 of them, and Greyfield remained confident that they could hold down any civilian revolts or rogue military units that opposed him.

"Admiral." Walraven nodded respectfully. He'd always been respectful from the day he dragged his airborne division to the Capital after the meteors. They'd proved useful at first, but that started slipping with time to the point that they were nothing much more than light infantry.

"These reports have come to me recently." Greyfield slid the two damning documents over and waited to see if the general was smart enough to see what they meant. "I'm sending a naval force soon to secure the seas, but we'll need troops on the ground to counter theirs."

"3rd Guards Army?" Walraven looked in both reports to make sure they matched. "Ran into them plenty of times months ago. Damn good fighters. Probably still are, even if it's down to about the size of a full division, maybe two." Greyfield's nostrils flared. _The enemy was not supposed to be complimented!_ "Figures they'd be Lazuria's last line of defense."

"We don't have solid information on the strength of their ground forces." Greyfield grumbled indignantly. The only trump card he knew that he had was that the NRA Navy was in a better shape than its enemy counterpart. That could be used to balance things out if Lazurian ground forces proved to hold too great an advantage. "But your command and another battalion should be enough to secure victory." Walraven looked up at Greyfield suddenly, with a scrutinizing look on his face. Being looked at like a fool made Greyfield's blood boil, but he heard the general out.

"Admiral, we're talking about at least a division's worth of battle-hardened troops. Even if they're isolated we'll need to hit them with superior force. We should throw everything at them—my division, the three NRA brigades, that battalion, the Marines—everything!" he insisted. "We throw everything in by bits and pieces, they'll be crushed and we'll have no troops left at all." Greyfield wasn't too worried at that; there were about 90,000 civilians in the Capital and in the surrounding cities who created materials and gathered resources for the war. Those who weren't—they were 15,000 of them—were permanently disabled soldiers or elderly people or kids who couldn't wear uniforms. The former and even some of the later could still be recruited and equipped as infantry. After all, Greyfield believed, it wasn't that demanding of a job.

"We need to keep forces in reserve." Greyfield shook his head. "There will be naval support, so you won't have to worry." Greyfield pushed on before the fool could raise any pointless objections. "We need to take initiative before Lazuria digs in. I want what is left of your division to parachute in and seize the three southern islands so that their reinforcements can't arrive and ours can. I assume you can do that?" Greyfield waited for an objection, and sure enough it came.

"Well... There are only three transport planes left in the entire NRA inventory." Walraven admitted reluctantly. "If you can give us some transport helicopters, we might be able to pull it off." That wasn't an unreasonable request, or so it appeared to Greyfield. He had expected more; Army officers were prone to whining. _Like stupid little kids._ But Greyfield was still reluctant; the regular NRA had only about 47 transport helicopters left: thirteen in the Army brigade, four in the 12th Battalion, five in the MEU, four in the Air Force, and the rest in the Navy. Greyfield wanted to keep a few of them for himself and his planned Rapid-Response Royal Guard Battalion—a unit that could deploy and smother unrest anywhere in Rubinelle, but the Navy and Air Force didn't absolutely need theirs at the moment.

"I can lend 25 to the task; can you at least manage that?" If Walraven was insulted by Greyfield's, tone, he didn't show it.

"It would take four drops to land everyone, but yes, the initial drop should be enough to establish a foothold. As for time, it depends on how quickly we can get my men and those aircraft to the staging area."

"The Navy will provide transportation." Greyfield said dismissively. "Move all of your forces to the ports along the river. I'll see to it that a naval officer meets you there to handle everything else." At that moment, there was a rapt knock on the door, one Sheridan used to announce his presence. "That is all for now." Greyfield declared. "Gather your men; we'll discuss the details while you're on your way to the staging area." There were a lot of details missing, including just where the staging area would be, but Greyfield was final in his decisions, and traveling by sea did take a long time, so Walraven took his leave, knowing the Admiral never was one to leave things unsaid.

"I'll get to it immediately, Admiral. Best case scenario, we'll be dropping on those islands in 20 hours." That'd be pushing it, but it was possible. He got up and left the office. He opened and door and stepped through, nodding respectfully at the two men standing outside of it. As he walked off, one of the men walked off with while the other, a Navy man in dress uniform, stepped inside.

"Ah, Admiral Hamilton." The naval officer commanding the NRA fleet was one of the few men Greyfield didn't consider too dangerous a threat. He seemed content with simply shedding enemy blood, not seizing power, which was why Greyfield had called him. This was an opportunity to severely damage Lazurian naval power, and he'd not risk losing it.

"Greyfield." Hamilton sat down. He'd been in these meetings before, and was a straight-to-business type person. "I assume this is about what the _Sea Wolf_ found?" The submarine had relayed the message through Hamilton to HQ.

"Yes." Greyfield handed over the intelligence report on the enemy numbers and their intentions. "I need you to dispatch a force immediately to stop them from reinforcing the islands and to protect a paratrooper assault that will take the islands."

"I can dispatch a task force of eight cruisers plus five submarines under Rear Admiral Mack to the area immediately." Hamilton assured. Greyfield nodded approvingly and continued.

"I want you to assemble a larger battle group to send to the area once more ground forces arrive. Half of Lazuria's capital ships are there. They must not be allowed to escape!" Greyfield stated fiercely. "Can you do that?" When Hamilton didn't immediately answer, Greyfield felt the closest thing he'd ever felt to anxiety in a long time. "The Navy is still functioning? Correct?"

"Ryman's two carriers and his battleship are still damaged, as well as the battleship that was in the 3rd Fleet. A lot of ships are still being repaired and crew replacements are yet to be completed. All three Air Wings are seriously depleted and are yet to be reorganized as well." The Carrier Air Wings had been a messy combination of F-18, A-10, A-1 Skyraider, and attack helicopter squadrons that were meant to work all together for combat missions. The first two craft were in low supply, and the last two had suffered horrific casualty rates. "My two capital ships are the only ones that can be immediately dispatched, but I can pull the surviving Air Wings from the other carriers to my own. With enough cruiser escorts, it will be enough." he assured. Greyfield took his word for it and dismissed him.

After that, Greyfield was busy in paperwork for another fifteen minutes before Sheridan escorted the last man into Greyfield's office.

"Brenner." Greyfield's voice held neither the scorn nor the mild trust he'd held for his other two visitors. He kept it entirely neutral. Greyfield still wasn't sure what to think of Brenner. He was clearly an intelligent and observant man. Surely he would've noticed the recent misfortunes of the NRA, and yet he did not comment or participate in it. Why? Greyfield was curious, but still he treaded carefully; the 12th Battalion—Brenner's Wolves, as they started to call themselves—were a very capable group, one he could use to help win the war. Last time he checked, the 12th was almost a brigade-sized unit—it even had a naval arm and a respectable air wing, which was quite considerable for what had started as a tank battalion. However, he was also worried about the man in charge. A mere captain who could rally so many different people to follow him was a man to be treated as a threat.

"Greyfield." Brenner nodded as he sat down. Sheridan sat down in a chair on the other side of the room, on standby in case anything happened. "I would like to thank you for the vehicles you've given to my Battalion." he started. Greyfield hadn't expected such a statement. There were reasons for reversing his decision to give the 12th new equipment—reasons both nefarious and practical.

"You're welcome." Greyfield blustered, and then recovered quickly. "I gave them because your men know how to use them. And now I need your men." Brenner didn't visibly react.

"What's the situation?" he asked. Greyfield pushed over the intelligence reports. Brenner took them and looked them over. Greyfield watched him read... and read... and read... It was as if Brenner had frozen. He was entirely still. _What is he thinking?_ Annoyed, Greyfield plowed ahead with his demands.

"I want your battalion to deploy after the southern islands are seized and help neutralize the enemy forces on the other islands there. Your forces are equipped for such a task, correct?" The captain seemed to recover from his trance.

"Theoretically." Brenner confirmed. _Close enough_, Greyfield decided.

"Then I want your men to prepare for deployment." Greyfield ordered. "If you gather them at the docks, I'll have ships to transport you to the staging area. Any questions?"

"Are there enough forces?" Brenner went along the same line of questioning Walraven had taken. "The enemy seems quite large." He sounded concerned. _About what?_

"The enemy won't be able to deploy more forces once my ships enter the area. They will have the firepower to balance any disadvantages you find there, if you allow yourself to run into any." Greyfield dismissed the concerns like he had before. Brenner looked at the report for another few moments.

"Okay." Brenner nodded and stood up. "We'll set out immediately." He paused, as if trying to decide something. "This should allow us to end the war, correct?" he asked.

"It'll put us in the position to. Why?" Greyfield masked his genuine curiosity.

"I'd rather see this war over soon and go back to helping survivors." Brenner explained. "There may still be thousands of people living out there." Greyfield didn't doubt it. In fact, he'd sent out many expeditions throughout the year to find people and bring them in, only to stop because he ran out of troops to use. He'd have to continue after the war ended, of course. Who knew what people were doing in the vast isolated wastelands? _They could be raising an army to overthrow the new government, that's why!_

"You'll be back at that task soon enough if you survive the war." Greyfield waved a hand dismissively.

"We will." Brenner assured and started for the door. "We'll send word back when we arrive at the staging point."

"Yes..." Greyfield acknowledged as the man left. Greyfield stared after him intently. "Yes... On with whatever scheme you're planning. Assuming you survive, that is."

He turned his eyes towards the ceiling, which was decorated with the official seal of the Rubinelle President, while collecting his thoughts. One thing that grated on his nerves the whole time he was talking to them was that no one called him 'President' despite his functions. _That'll change once the NRA is victorious. _And Greyfield would make sure that would come true.


	50. Chapter 49

X Tim X

"Wake up. Wake up!" Sarah repeated, finally succeeding in robbing me of my sleep. I groaned loudly into my pillow before sitting up, finally hearing a loud knock on the door. Sarah wasn't fully dressed, so I got up and answered it. I opened the door and found a grunt standing there, in full battle gear. Several people from the Air Wing were up already, running across the hallway. I watched one of the bomber crew run into a wall because he was trying to button up his blouse. _Shit, something's up._

"Orders for an emergency deployment have been received." The grunt talked like a cassette player with a recorded message on when I opened the door. "The entire battalion will be out of the Capital within two hours. Everyone is assembling downstairs in ten." He turned and hurried off. The message acted like a slap across the face. Ten minutes? Two thousand people and vehicles gone in two hours?

"Goddamn," I muttered and shut the door, "who the fuck screwed up now!" Maybe the NRA had fucked up again and left a mess to clean up. The commotion and my yelling made Sarah raise her head up. "Get dressed; we have to be downstairs in nine minutes."

"Nine minutes?" The information woke Sarah up and she jumped out of the bed. "What happened?" She yawned and headed towards the bathroom while I pulled on my flight suit. I glanced at the clock while I put my sidearm holster on. Two hours. The Battalion generally enforced a decent sleep schedule, but they woke us up from it way early after a hard day of work to do more hard work. _Whoever's fault this was, I'll punch them in the face. _

Sarah came out of the bathroom and I tossed her a few of her clothes that I'd gathered as I passed. When I came out of the bathroom, she was fully dressed. Within two minutes, we checked our gear, decided we had everything, and then ran out of the room. We actually ran into the brat as we barged into the hallway, but he just got back up and kept going. He still was an asshole, but an asshole with a job to do.

The lobby was crowded as hell when we got there with so many people streaming out, and I knew damn well it had been more than ten minutes when we got outside. "Everyone assemble with your company or unit!" Someone kept shouting, and I assumed that meant we had to go find Stone and the rest of the Air Wing. Picking out a pilot uniform in this mass was unbearable, and we spent three minutes waiting for the crowd to thin; we finally noticed Stone in one of the side gardens, and we hurried to meet him. Most of the Battalion, tank crews and infantrymen, had gone straight for their vehicles. Other groups like the anti-air crews or the engineers formed up in the courtyard.

"Hey." Kim and Eddie both greeted us when we fell in, both of them looking tired. "I had to run back twice because I forgot something!" Kim yawned. Not everybody was here—well, most of us were here, but we had a few pilots and some maintenance crews missing.

"You got everything, right?" I asked Sarah, checking my own pockets and coming up okay.

"I think." Sarah checked her bag. "I.D, wallet, pads, and—" she paused and rummaged furiously through her bag. "Shit," she said quietly.

"What'd you forget?" I asked.

"Nothing," she lied, but I let it slide for now. I'd ask her when we were in a more organized place. A few more people came out of the hotel and found us, while others came back from the street. _Been drinking, eh? Sucks to be you. _While we were waiting for the others to catch up, there was a sound like thunder, and everyone looked towards the road to see exhaust fumes rising into the air as the engines of each armored vehicle were started up. The ground literally shook as all of Battalion's vehicles rumbled off. They were gone fifteen minutes after everybody was up.

"Whoa." Eddie broke the silence.

"Jesus." Jessie was one of the people already here. "Did Lazuria smuggle a whole division in while we were asleep?" Funny thing it was, that might've actually been possible. I hoped it wasn't true.

"We're not sure what happened." Stone spoke up for the first time, though he was still looking around for those still missing. Even the old man wasn't told? The 12th Battalion usually was well organized, and now this? Man, something or somewhere really was fucked up.

_Sarah and I can be happy, but it's still a crapsack world_ _out there._I wasn't going to forget that. If we were going to make anything work in the future, we had to consider all angles. But that was for another day. For now, I had to silently bitch about the people that were late. Eventually, everyone showed up from a couple different places. We sure as well weren't the first group to collect itself, but we weren't the last either. Stone didn't bring it up and started talking.

"For reasons still unknown to us, the Battalion has received an emergency order to immediately deploy to an island in the Channel. The ground forces will be moved by sea, along with all rotary-wing aircraft, their crews, and the maintenance personnel. All fixed-wing aircraft will fly directly to the island. The Air Wing is splitting up and taking two separate trucks. Any questions?" It was short, sweet, straight to the point, and easy enough to understand.

It's kind of amazing how fast you can rush things when you absolutely have to. Just thirty minutes after we'd dragged our asses out of bed, we were climbing in the back of a truck to head out to the docks.

"Lucky bastards. We'll be cramped on a ship and they get to fly there in an hour, tops!" Sarah just leaned her head on my shoulder and didn't answer. I guess she still had her own stuff to work out. While the two trucks headed to the docks, I just let her sleep. The truck continued to pick up speed until we got there. Once we were on the docks, we were quickly kicked out the truck, which sped back to the Battalion HQ to pick up more people and supplies.

"Who are you with?" A customs official asked as we all crowded around the gate. Since Stone wasn't around, the guy in charge of the maintenance group answered. "Air Wing?" He looked down at his clipboard. "Air Wing... Air Wing... Ah!" He looked back up at us. "You'll all be in Section D, first floor on the passenger liner _S.S. Max_." With that, he waved to the control booth and the gate started to slide open.

A passenger liner? Hell that did sound pretty neat. After that, we all entered the port. "Damn." I muttered along the lines of everyone else. There were two passenger liners, a couple of cargo ships, a tanker, and two dozen landers. Other members of the Battalion, including the tank crews and their vehicles, were all gathered here already. They were putting vehicles and supplies in the landers and in a few of the cargo ships, and a lot of people seemed to be getting on the passenger liners, too. But there were a lot of people loading up on the cargo ships that I didn't recognize.

"Those ain't our guys." I heard someone say. They probably belonged to some NRA outfit they threw together to help, like last time. I was willing to bet we'd do the heavy work again. Well, I felt sorry for the poor bastards, and not just because I was looking at them from the boarding ramp of a passenger liner. _Why do I get the feeling that they seem to be nothing more but cannon fodder…?_

"Welcome aboard, we have a seven-hour journey ahead of us." A civilian, some old bastard who probably could've fought in one of the wars before the last, welcomed everyone as they came aboard in a chewy voice. After everyone was aboard the ship, it came down to the task of selecting rooms. These weren't fancy cruise liners that could hold 3,000 people and had a buffet and all that; it was just something to hold 800 people or so and take them a few miles to a different island. It wasn't that fancy. _Damn, and I got my hopes up._

When we finally did get a room, Sarah was the first to step in. After a few seconds, she stopped, making a disgusted sound. I looked past her to see the room. It was pretty damn small: a bed, a T.V, a closet, a bathroom, and a window where we could just stick our heads out of. But, damn; it was fucking dirty! Judging by the marks on the carpet and on the walls, they'd been using this boat since the beginning of the war to move a bunch of muddy, dirty soldiers around. _Figures for a bunch of people who usually live in tents and bombed out buildings._

"First class service!" I joked. Clearly displeased, Sarah checked the bathroom while I checked the bed. The sheets and blanket looked like they'd been roughly washed a thousand times. They probably had, yet there still were a few marks on them. But it was a bed, and I was still pretty damn tired.

"It's better than a police station, but worse than the orphanage." Sarah declared when she came back out. "I don't even want to look at the shower, though."

"They said we'd only be here for seven hours. You can survive that, right? I don't know about you, but I'm still tired." I pointed to the bed. "Why don't we just sleep through it?" Sarah looked at the bed, decided it was enough, and threw her bag at me before falling onto the bed and crawling under the covers. "You're welcome." I calmly set her bag down and climbed into the bed too. Sarah wasted no time curling up next to me. I wrapped an arm around her.

It was still pretty quiet outside, since they weren't using any heavy equipment to load things. It was all by hand. That meant we had a couple of minutes to ourselves before heading out, so the ships were off. To sum it all up: peace and quiet. I felt my eyes get heavy again almost immediately, and I was knocked out a second later.

When I woke up a couple of hours later, the ship was still moving, and I was confused as hell for a minute. "Oh." I said to myself. I remembered that we were going to the Channel. We must've been close, anyway. Sarah groaned and rolled off me when I sat up, grumbling.

"I'm hungry." She sat up too. "You think they have breakfast on this ship?"

"Probably." I took a wild guess. "Interrupting our sleep is one thing, but I'm sure they don't want to piss us off twice." Sarah had all the covers pulled off of me.

"Then go get us some." Sarah suggested as she wrapped herself up.

"Yes, dear." I patted her butt and she kicked me away. That earned a chuckle from me. I got up, stretched my legs, and walked into the hallway. Some people were up too, but I was sure most of the people were asleep. I read the ship's map posted on a wall at the end of the hallway and tried to find the buffet, got lost, and finally found it. Turns out they had left stuff out for us: biscuits. A couple of a hundred warm, fluffy biscuits. It wasn't much, but it was better than what usually passed for breakfast. Stuffing one into my mouth, I walked over to the window they had here and looked out.

"Damn." I whistled softly. There were a lot more ships than I thought. Aside from the two passenger liners, I saw at least thirty landers, four small cargo ships, and a couple of cruisers way ahead in the distance. Looks like they were moving a lot more than us to the area. What was so important? My stomach rumbled, and I decided breakfast was important. I stuffed my arms full of biscuits (the plates were yet to be washed) and headed back to our room.

Sarah was just rolling out of bed when I got back. "Biscuits?" She grabbed a few and started eating. "So, are we close to our destination?" she asked. I shook my head.

"No." We both sat down and started eating. "But there are a lot of ships out there. Wherever we're heading, it's a big place."

"Hmm." Sarah lay back down after she finished eating. I lay down beside her as well and we both stared at the ceiling for a while. And that's all we did until the ship finally reached the dock. No conversations, nothing at all—we just bade our time. It was boring to a lot of people; for us, after everything that happened, something boring that didn't require thought was just what we both wanted. We enjoyed every minute of it.

X James X

"Off the boat, let's go soldiers!" Lieutenant Anderson bellowed as the platoon loudly jogged down the gangplank behind and in front of the other 12th Battalion members who were doing the same. The ride aboard the passenger liner had been spent largely catching up on interrupted sleep. Whatever was coming, we were going to be rested and ready for it. Since the trip lasted seven hours, a lot of us, myself included, had woken up before we docked anyway. We were left with no other choice but to follow an old Army pastime: hurry up and wait.

While I waited, I inevitably ended up thinking. I managed to stall it up to this point through training and then through plain fatigue yesterday, but I couldn't. I was on the way to what was likely an important battle, and I couldn't get into the right mindset.

I couldn't stop thinking about family. I couldn't stop remembering Victoria storming off yesterday. I remembered a little girl who always wanted to play with us and had cried when the entire family turned out to bid Peter and I farewell when we got on the bus to go to Basic Training. The Victoria I'd seen yesterday... I didn't want to believe they were one and the same.

As I walked around—mainly to clear my head—I noticed that the island we were on was fairly large and had several airfields on it. A lot of the equipment stayed in the landers that were parked off the southern coast, but the ships carrying men circled to the northern side of the island and disembarked everyone off at a crudely constructed port at the mouth of a river. A sign above the port read: Clover Keys Military Base. The NRA warships sailed on into the distance and eventually out of sight. _I wonder why we had to go here…_

Once everybody was off the ships, we were sent to an assembly area and organized by company and platoon. We all waited, certain we were about to hear what this was about. Sure enough, Captain Brenner soon appeared in front of the battalions entire ground and air units, about 1500 people total. As always, silence fell over the entire Battalion so that he could speak.

"I'm sure you are all wondering about the sudden deployment." Captain Brenner started. "I'm sorry we couldn't brief everyone during the chaos earlier, but the situation called for a quick response." Anything requiring a quick deployment was usually extremely important, so we all listened closely. "One hundred and three miles north of here is a group of Lazurian islands, and just beyond them, the Lazurian capital itself."

We really were close to the end then. The thought was the first positive one I'd had all day. _I can finally reassure Victoria now. _I didn't even care that it wasn't related to my job. I was glad.

"Lazuria recently began fortifying these islands, likely to prevent Rubinelle from reaching their capital and possibly to stage further assaults against the homeland as well. An attack has been ordered to clear Lazuria from these islands, which would allow us to drive straight to their capital and hopefully end the war." People cheered when they heard that last bit. I cheered, and so did Peter. Captain Brenner waited five minutes for the Battalion to stop. When he spoke, his voice sounded much more positive.

"I'm glad everyone is aware of what we're fighting for." he said before continuing. "This island will be the staging point for the attack. The NRA will move in first with naval forces to halt any efforts by the Lazurians to land reinforcements. By now, odds are that they've already landed at least one or two regiments—if our assumptions are correct, they wouldn't be able to reinforce the islands further after that. Afterwards, the 49th Airborne Division will parachute in and seize some of the islands for us to move into. From there, with further expected support from the NRA, we are to clear enemy presence from the islands."

_Islands? That'll be tough. We're not that good outside of ground warfare._

"I know it sounds like a difficult mission, but we are experienced and professional men; we know that we are fighting for a good cause. I know that all of you will perform your best and that we can accomplish this." He was answered with a proud, confident cheering from all the assembled members of the Battalion. It put me back in good spirits, because I realized it _was_ all for a good cause. I did want to patch things up with family, but what good would it do without peace? I had to finish this. I had to, and I would.

After that, Captain Brenner dismissed everyone, urging us to enjoy the few hours of peace we had before things got bad. Nearly everyone moved to the northeastern part of the island, where the NRA had a military base and an airfield. What disturbed me—and the other members of the Battalion as well—was the state of things in which we found these installations. Although we discovered that all of the buildings in both installations had running water and electricity, we also found bombed-out shelters, craters, burnt-out fields, and scorched ground that had yet to heal. Something bad had happened here, bad enough that the island was not used for quite some time. _Is this a sign of things to come? I sincerely hope not…_

Some units stayed together while others dispersed. Lieutenant Anderson repeated the Captain's orders to enjoy the peace, warning everyone to be ready to leave on a moment's notice. Accordingly, I dismissed my squad and used the time for myself to think. I didn't bother Peter, since I'd seen him walk off with Helen before I got to him. I still wasn't sure what it was, but it still wasn't my business. Whatever it was, hopefully it kept him a bit happier.

The thought of it made me feel kind of lonely. _It was my choice. I did it for a good reason._

I wandered around the base for an hour just to look at some of the damage, and I spent another watching a game of soccer between our guys and theirs. I looked forward to working with the 49th Division—it was pretty clear all of them were professional, battle-hardened soldiers who'd been through the entire war since it began. It probably had something to do with how difficult airborne training was to duplicate.

I moved on after the match ended—we lost 4-6, but it was all in good nature. I tried to think of something to do without my thoughts drifting back to family. Body and mind made a soldier together, and I was missing one of them. I decided to go inside one of the barracks, thinking that I might find a gym there to work out some of my mental stress. I was still in good shape, but I wasn't at the same level I'd been before, so a little sweat wouldn't hurt.

I ended up getting distracted by something else when I got inside. There was a lot of noise coming from the common area. About ninety soldiers and airmen, ours and theirs, were gathered in a corner of the room. A lot of them were talking all at once; I couldn't make out any individual conversation. I got curious though, so I decided to see what the excitement was all about.

"What's going on?" I asked a fellow soldier.

"Some guys from G-6 are setting up a radio link with the fleet," he explained. G-6 referred to the part of a command staff responsible for communication. "If we can get it hooked up, we'll get to listen in on the news from the naval battle." Curious, I tried to look over the crowd, but I couldn't see a radio. The air in the room was already a bit muggy, but I stayed anyway. I might learn something important, after all.

"Hey, hey, hey! Quiet!" Someone up front called. "Quiet!" The chatter that had started up died away. There was a pause before he spoke again. "Submarines ambushed a convoy! Sunk five ships!" Loud cheering erupted, and I joined in. An ambush was always the start to a good battle. "Enemy's in disarray already!"

I was rooting for them. Any battles around islands were dangerous to ground troops since they were dangerously exposed. The more ships they sunk now meant the less trouble we would have when we got there. There was something picking at my mind about this situation; I couldn't quite place it, so I just waited for more news to come in. We waited a long time between bulletins, but the news we were hearing actually made the wait seem like minutes.

"They just beat back an enemy air attack!" The man at the radio shouted. More cheering. The room was getting more crowded as people came in to listen. I thought I might've have seen Lieutenant Lin come in, but I wasn't sure of it. My attention didn't dwell on it long, anyway.

"Hey, everyone shut up!" Someone at the back was clearly intent on listening in.

"A cruiser just got sunk from enemy artillery!" There was no cheering this time, only a solemn silence. A few people took off their helmets and held them over their chests. This news was followed by the reports of a submarine being sunk, and another cruiser getting damaged. Then things swung back to our side with the sinking of a Lazurian cruiser and a few more ships.

I kind of shut out the reports after that and thought to myself, even though a lot of good and bad reports continued to come in at a faster rate. The enemy was likely superior in most aspects, especially since it was fighting in its own territory. But our Navy force, whatever it was, was clearly trying. How many forces was each side willing to put forward here? If it was the last island before Lazuria—the thought reminded me that I was forgetting something again—they'd obviously want to keep it. But then we wanted it, too.

"Motherfuckers! Fucking hell!" The man near the radio yelled, causing everyone to fall silent. "Those sons of bitches sunk the cruiser with the rear-admiral on it!"

Everyone began discussing again, this time more worried than anything. It was hard to judge a battle from a few radio excerpts. _It's like listening in to a basketball game—really frustrating. _It sounded like things had started good on our side, but it quickly soured when the enemy rallied. The enemy was certainly hurt, but our guys had been hurt bad too...

It was nearly half an hour before the next update came in.

"We lost a submarine, but it sunk two enemy ships!" After a solemn pause, there was a bit of cheering. The way things were going, the enemy was definitely going to have trouble resupplying or reinforcing their troops. If turned out like this, then odds were that they wouldn't be able to counterattack against us. On the other hand, that meant they would dig in harder with what they had.

"Hey, hey! Quiet!" The man at the radio shouted. "Another bulletin!" Everyone immediately quieted down and waited for the news to come through. "They sunk another submarine! Our last one!" He shouted, and everyone groaned.

"Damn." I muttered. Being the last bulletin, it could only mean that the battle was starting to putter out. I retreated to the back of the room, about to leave. They made some good gains, but they couldn't push their luck all that much further. Another soldier had muscled his way out of the crowd and was going for a chair that people had been too excited to notice.

"Figures," he said to no one in particular, "this place must be cursed still. It's just as bad as last time!"

"You've been here before?" I turned and asked the soldier as he sat down. He looked up at my voice.

"Oh, hey." The soldier greeted me when he saw me. "Uh, yeah, we've been here before. This actually used to be our base," he explained while looking around. "We lost a lot of battles around here," he informed me, which was probably what he meant by 'cursed'. "We took a horrible beating and had to leave. We suffered a firebombing from Lazurian bombers as well. We lost at least an entire regiment here."

_That many? Damn. _"Sorry to hear that." I said, genuinely sorry for him.

"These things... They happen," he shrugged, "and you learn to deal with it." He stood up, and I had to hide my surprise when I realized he was a full head shorter than I. He didn't look like a half-trained civilian though. "So, who are you guys?" He looked at our uniforms. "You don't look like you're from the 1st Brigade." I shook my head.

"No. We're 12th Battalion. Brenner's Wolves." The soldier's eyes widened and he mouthed the word 'wow'.

"You guys are almost legends in the NRA, you know that? A lot of people are talking about you."

"Really?" I asked, unsure why we'd be that interesting. I remembered that some of the NRA didn't trust us for not joining the fight sooner, but was that really 'legendary'?

"Yeah." The soldier confirmed. "You guys were out west, right? Spent a year helping civilians?" I nodded. "Wow. You guys aren't even a battalion though, are you?"

"Not exactly." I admitted. "But we're centered on ground forces."

"Glad we'll be working together." The soldier stuck out his hand. "Nate."

"James." I shook it. "So you guys are the 49th Airborne?" I actually considered Airborne School when I was enlisting. Paratroopers had a fearsome quality to them, and were highly respected. But our recruiter steered us towards helicopters, and that's where we were today._ And I thought I'd never regret it..._

"Yeah, we only got about 3,800 people left, but we're still here." I had to hide my surprise again. Six thousand people from two different units—half of which were light infantry—were supposed to take out at least two Lazurian regiments? Just who approved of this plan? Surely the NRA had more to throw into this fight?

"We got our work cut out for us, then." I commented wearily.

"Now that's the truth!" Nate agreed with me wholeheartedly. "They should've sent the royal Guards brigades down here; they'll sort this one out real fast!" He sounded confident.

"I've seen those Royal Guards brigades. Odd outfit." I commented. Nate shook his head.

"Ah, they were active for a while before you guys showed up, just under a different name," he casually explained. "I fought alongside them a few times. Those guys are badass. You send them anywhere in Lazuria, you can be sure those blue bastards will be begging for forgiveness!" He punched a fist into his palm. "I almost got to join them, actually." The way he said it, it was evidently an honor in the NRA.

"How?" I asked, curious. "And why didn't you get in?" Suddenly, he looked awkward and averted my gaze.

"Eh, I'm not really sure. I didn't get in, so I don't know the system." I doubted if what he said was true, but I decided to let it slide for now.

"They got a good battle record?" I asked.

"Yeah. Not a single Lazurian soldier escapes a battle from them alive. If they say that there are five hundred guys there, then there's going to be five hundred corpses." He sounded like he was promoting a product. Sheer brutality wasn't a quality of a good soldier, and it ended up making me uneasy.

"What about wounded enemy soldiers?" I asked, remembering the 'guests' the Battalion had a few weeks ago, including that strange girl_. What was her name again? Was it Lada? Wait, what does it matter?_ "Or prisoners?" He looked a bit confused for a minute.

"They probably get rid of them, just like everyone else." He shrugged, and I felt a stab of panic. _Just what is going on with the NRA? _

"Isn't that against the rules of war?" I asked pointedly. The shorter man was definitely confused now.

"Yeah, probably," he uneasily admitted. "But..." He trailed off as I stared at him. "Uh... Actually, I think I'll go over there." He took a few steps back and disappeared into the hallway.

_What the fuck? _He definitely had to have been recruited recently. There was no way in hell a soldier from before the meteors would say anything like THAT. It was probably propaganda. The Guards brigades were probably made up of the most professional soldiers who just tried to look rugged like the Special Forces. _Probably._ The raiders might've been horrible like that, but there no way in hell raiders would fight in this war.

But we were. The 49th Division took off an hour later, and the relaxing period the Battalion had was cut short as everyone returned to the passenger liners, ready for a signal that could come in an hour or even a day. As it turned out, the signal came only seven hours later, and the massive convoy of ships sailed out. Whatever was out there, I was ready for it. A few hundred men had already died clearing the way for us, and we would make sure that their sacrifices wouldn't be in vain.

We would take those islands.

X 12th Battalion Command Post X

The naval battle lasted an hour and resulted in the sinking of all Rubinelle submarines and three cruisers, but not without the Rubinelle naval detachment inflicting severe casualties to the enemy. Fourteen enemy landers had been sunk, causing the others to retreat. The engagement had also destroyed four Lazurian surface warships (half the escorting force) before a lull came. So far, sea traffic south was nonexistent; the enemy wasn't willing to risk its remaining transports to put more men on the island. Within ten minutes after the battle ended, the paratrooper assault began, eventually lasting for six hours and resulting in the capture of the middle and the southeastern islands. After that, the 12th Battalion deployed to its new base: a small industrial island in the southeastern portion of the area. With housing facilities, warehouses, a port, and a small commercial airstrip that could be expanded, it could house the 12th Battalion easily. The only issue was that the runway would not be large enough to accommodate the B-52s, which were at the NRA air base further south. Coordinating their actions with the other assets of the Battalion would be tricky.

The new headquarters for the 12th Battalion was a small cafe on the northern side of the southeastern island. Brenner had decided to put up his headquarters there, for several reasons; the place was inconspicuous, it was surrounded by larger buildings on the island, and as such it was much less likely to be struck by a shell from a ship or a bomb from a plane. With the place having blown-out windows, decayed and weathered bricks, and a slightly tilted foundation, only a distressed infantryman under fire would give the building a second look.

The inside, however, was a different scene. Beds had been set up in the dining area, the kitchen had been converted into a radio room, and the freezer was now the nucleus of the Battalion's entire structure. To avoid giving away its location, all combat vehicles kept at least two blocks away, soldiers were not allowed to leave or enter in groups larger than two, and a fake HQ was being constructed further in the island's interior.

Inside of what had been the freezer, Captain Brenner looked over the maps of the battle zone, which was about 300 square miles and stretched roughly around the entire Lazurian archipelago. He had read his father's memoirs regarding his campaign to seize the islands, and Brenner knew that if he had fought in the last war, he would have at his command an entire army group, a carrier strike group, three fighter squadrons and three attack squadrons, plus a Marine division that he would use to create a beachhead in the enemy lines. But for now, he only had at his disposal a mere fraction of the forces his father commanded. The irony of the thought was enough to make him grimace. _What would Father have done in my place? _He shook the thought away and decided to focus on the task at hand.

Many miles to their northwest was a hotel-and-resort island, where the NRA had stationed its troops—which was composed mainly of ships and naval personnel at the moment—and established a provisional HQ. So far, a line of communication hadn't gone up between the two command centers. Brenner was quite sure there wouldn't be any; he learned in the last few battles that most NRA units had a notorious desire to work independently unless it was absolutely required.

Twenty four miles west of the 12th Battalion's island and thirty miles south of the NRA's was another hotel-and-resort island that had been captured by Lazurian Naval Infantry. The NRA hadn't been able to seize it; in fact, there was not a trace left of their five hundred-man battalion that was assigned to capture it. That made Brenner uneasy; taking that island would be necessary before he could go any further, as well as to protect his flanks and the NRA's.

To the west of the NRA was another small island. A city had once been there, but the island had been unpopulated since the last war. If Lin's intelligence was correct (and it usually was), the Lazurians had placed a lot of artillery on the island recently, hidden behind decayed concrete. This obviously was to protect the last island in the area.

Much larger than all the other islands combined, the large strip of land in the north had been a major industrial facility, (It had also been a memorial site to the last war, but few people remembered that.) with its own naval and air facilities. 3rd Guards Army had made its headquarters on the eastern side of the island, and the bulk of its ground troops that had been able to make it were there, nine thousand men strong (a mechanized infantry regiment and a tank regiment, he'd been told). Two beaches were on the southern side of the island, one near the ports and one near the HQ. Both, especially the latter, were heavily fortified.

The more Brenner looked at the entire battlefield, the more he didn't like it. For one, the islands were very close—artillery from the Lazurians' main base could easily hit the NRA, and even the 12th if they could get it on the small mountains that jutted out south from their HQ. Ships could have an even easier time bombarding both islands as well.

What also irked him was that a head-long approach seemed to be the only possibility. The Lazurian ports sat between two strips of land, which were at the end of a river. One of the beaches was on one of those strips of land. Either way, the only way ground troops could get to those ports was to venture close to the island crammed with artillery, which was located near to where the river let out into the ocean.

Lastly was his lack of ships and aircraft. Those would be the only means of moving troops around here, and likely the main means of fighting the enemy. The 12th had very few of both, not to mention that their ships were far below the quantity and firepower both sides had as well. The NRA ships that had helped ferry the Battalion here left them a gift of two hundred unguided bombs for the planes, heavy weapons for his infantry forces, as well as some additional fuel, but it only slightly remedied the problem; they were still outnumbered and outgunned.

And yet Brenner was ordered to be the spearhead of the Rubinelle offensive... His fingers traced the pins that identified a Lazurian battleship and a carrier near the two ports along with fourteen cruisers, and another pin that also identified a lone cruiser near the southwest corner of the area. He didn't have the resources to take down all of them at once, or individually is the chance presented itself, and had yet to devise a plan.

The NRA contingent that was centered on the five surviving cruisers—which were due to be reinforced in a few days—was the only thing close enough to counter them. Brenner hoped that, unless they fell to land-based artillery, the NRA ships could secure naval dominance—or at least shield his own forces. But he wouldn't stake much on that hope. And even then that left the ground troops Lazuria had deployed. Brenner admitted the possibility that the Battalion would have to deal with those regiments alone.

He looked up as the sentries outside stiffened to attention. Lin walked by them without a word; there were more important things then courtesy right now. "Are all forces deployed and battle-ready?" Brenner asked. Lin nodded.

"All aircraft are fueled and armed. All ships have their weapon systems active and are anchored offshore. Will hasn't reported back yet on the ports," she finished. Brenner nodded. Will had been given progressively larger commands since he joined a year ago, and now he commanded the Battalion's under strength Combat Support Company—92 engineers, 42 mechanics, and 15 trucks—that was responsible for keeping the Battalion supplied and working, although some tasks still fell to the combat units themselves. His first job in this new position was to examine the ports on the island and make them usable.

As if summoned by the thought, the young, brown-haired cadet came into the command post. The sentries had been slow to salute him, despite his authority being nearly equal to Lin's now—Will's age counted against him almost as much as Brenner's approval helped him. "We've finished repairing the port. We can now repair our ships if they get damaged!"

"Good job," Brenner nodded, "but the enemy has ports as well. This may be a long battle." He turned back to Lin. "Have we heard from the NRA commanders yet?" Lin shook her head.

"The general in charge of the airborne troops who seized the islands is still reforming his men. The rear-admiral in charge of the naval detachment died in the fighting and his replacement is silent so far. Greyfield has sent a lot of supplies here with those units, but I still doubt he supports the Battalion's efforts here in any way." To Will, she sounded pessimistic.

"The soldiers are still Rubinelle, so they'll help, right?" Unlike most of the officers and NCOs in the Battalion, Will's opinion on the NRA hadn't been tarnished by recent events.

"They'll do what their leader orders them to do." Lin left it at that and turned back to Brenner. "We need a plan, sir." It was a statement, not a question. "We have no indication that the NRA will be doing anything." Brenner nodded and pointed to the nearest island west. Not only was it the easiest target, but also one that the Battalion would need for any hope of reaching the main island further to the north.

"First, we'll detach part of our Air Wing to sink the enemy cruiser here." Brenner believed that the Lazurians wouldn't rush to replace that ship with the NRA Navy in the way. "After that, the B-52s will carpet bomb the island, followed by an hour of naval bombardment." The island was roughly sixteen square miles. A bombing run would destroy most of it. "If they don't surrender, your command will be charged with securing the island." Brenner stepped back to let Lin look at the map. She came up with a plan in mere seconds.

"I'll land the Marine Company on the eastern side of the island, with a detached platoon dropping on the southern side of the island by helicopter. Our heliborne forces will be dropped on the western side, and the Special Forces unit on the northern side. If they all converge to the center of the island, they should easily defeat the enemy." Brenner nodded, pleased.

"Then we'll move other units to reinforce the island. From there, we'll decide how to attack the other islands."

Brenner also considered the ground forces under his direct command. After the island was secure, most of them would move there, but leaving the HQ undefended was the biggest error one could make in war.

"Lin, how likely is a Lazurian airborne assault from the main island?" Brenner asked. His fears about the proximity of the islands were with good reason.

"It is very possible sir, but I have doubts that a serious attempt will be mounted without the support of an amphibious landing, and all of the enemy's surviving landers are still in their ports." Brenner nodded thoughtfully—the odds of any Lazurian ships getting near the island were very slim. Caution, however, was always necessary. The Battalion could spare a few units in this instance.

"Will." He decided. "I'll put Company C under your command temporarily. You'll be in charge of defending the island." Will straightened up.

"Yes sir!"

Brenner turned back to Lin."How much do you think we can trust the NRA for this engagement?"

"We're not sure who's leading the survivors from the naval detachment right now, but we know who is leading the reinforcements: the commander of the entire NRA Navy—Admiral Hamilton," Lin informed him. "I've done my research, and even I'll admit he seems to be a very capable commander." Coming from Lin, such a statement carried a lot of weight.

"So we can trust him to not hold back against the enemy?"

"If there's anything we should worry about, it's that we'll have to be wary around him. Officers that have ruined or complicated his operations had their careers effectively ended, regardless of branch or career history," Lin said ominously. With such power, Brenner realized that the man was in good terms with Greyfield. But was he a hard-line patriot, or a dedicated lackey? Brenner would eventually see for himself. "The men who seized the islands took a lot of casualties doing it, so I doubt they'll be able to help us immediately." There weren't other factors Brenner could think of.

"Will, go prepare the units I assigned to you for defending the island. Lin, brief your command for possible action. I'll pass on orders to the air and naval forces." Both of them saluted, nodded, and left for the tasks they were assigned. Left alone, Brenner continued to look at the map of the battle area, an area he'd extensively studied even before the meteors. This place had been the very last victory his father's forces had won before the war ended, even if he hadn't personally overseen the battle. And just a couple of a dozen miles to the north...

Brenner didn't continue the thought. With any luck, he'd never have to see that place. For the time being, he focused on the daunting task ahead and went to issue the necessary orders. In two hours, the operation would begin.


	51. Greyfield Strikes I

X James, Day One of Greyfield Strikes X

Any bad feelings I'd had or random thoughts of home had completely stopped after we arrived to the battle zone, and were replaced by awe instead. Something about this had picked at my brain, and now I knew why. This place... This was where history took place. This was Rubinelle's last victory during the Great War. This was where the lieutenants, as unimaginable as it was, had both fought as younger men. This was where the fighting had gotten so fierce it supposedly turned the sea red. And I was standing here; ready to win again beside a new generation of soldiers.

_This is like the fantasies I used to have when I was younger._Of course, I wrote them off as a normal childish imagination and focused on the real aspects of soldiering. But being here... It proved just how real our job still was.

The realization kept me in an airy mood while we were unloading everything the battalion had brought with it. Even though the 49th was supposed to be here, I didn't see any of them, and I hoped they were all right. The island was relatively un-damaged, and I appreciated them for giving us that environment to work from. You could see determination written in every laborer's faces and in the way everyone worked. Anyone who'd taken fifth grade history knew the significance of this place, and now they were here themselves.

_I hope we would be able not only to repeat history, but also to put everything to a successful conclusion as well. _I tried not to think of it as revenge but as...conclusion.

Even Sam wasn't moody. "There's a powerful air here, man," he said. Still injured, he was being kept behind the lines. We decided to bring him since it was possible the battle would drag on past the point that he was well enough to return to duty.

I wondered what Anson and Anderson thought about it, but I hadn't seen them since we arrived. They'd just disappeared and left us to help the unloading process by ourselves. To be in the same spot after all those years ago—it must've been something. Remembering Anderson's reaction when he heard about the Scissors Basin, it probably wouldn't be a pleasant reaction. It felt kind of strange, worrying about what they were thinking...

I didn't have much time to think of anything else as the workload began to pick up. Boxes, vehicles, and various other items had to be unloaded. Everyone just grabbed an item and carried it off the ship to be sorted later. It was obvious that the NRA did not want to risk its precious transport vessels, because they would turn and speed back south as soon as their cargo holds were empty. In just an hour, we were watching the last two ships sail off into the horizon.

And then the job of sorting and moving the supplies came. Despite the lieutenants' absence, the six of us sergeants managed. Cargo was loaded into trucks and sent off to supply dumps established further throughout the island while combat vehicles were sent to their respective company's rendezvous points. The pile of items grew smaller and smaller, and the line of vehicles got shorter and shorter before both eventually disappeared. The task done, everyone dispersed—except us.

_Where are the lieutenants? They didn't leave any instructions, a meeting place, nothing. This isn't like them._The six of us decided to gather inside one of the abandoned houses and discuss it over.

"This hasn't happened before, has it?" Riddoch asked. Peter, Sam, Collins, and I all shook our heads.

"No. They've always been organized." I scratched my head.

"They're probably spooked about being here again," Sam suggested. "I mean, a lot of people died here."

"I don't think so," I said it at the same time Peter said something identical. It didn't fit them. I'd known them for four years, although not in personal terms, but they'd always been profession, unemotional, and efficient soldiers. To imagine them getting scared or anything similar was just... unbelievable in every way.

Before we could reach a decision on what to do, a soldier found us and handed us a message, saying it was from the lieutenants. Surprised, Peter accepted it and we all watched the messenger leave. They'd sent a messenger instead of getting to us themselves? What was going on?

"It says there's a briefing at the 'Harkov Industries' office on the island, Room Fourteen on the first floor." Peter read. A briefing? Was there something so important to them that they couldn't come get us? That would explain things, but something still seemed off. It was clearly an order though, and so we obeyed.

"Everyone, fall in!" Collins called, and the platoon quickly formed up behind us. With the six of us in front, the platoon walked through the island streets till we came to the office building in question. Once we were in, it quickly became apparent to us this was where Lieutenant Lin had chosen to hold her own command post. A Special Forces lieutenant was kind enough to point us in the direction the room was, though I could tell he shared our confusion over how we didn't know what was happening ourselves.

It had been a meeting room at one point. Although the chairs were gone, the long table wasn't. The lieutenants were standing at the back of the room where a whiteboard had been. The platoon filed in, everyone taking up spots on either side of the table where we could all watch the lieutenants. As soon as we were all crammed in, the briefing began without any explanation given on their earlier behavior.

"This is a map of the battle zone," Lieutenant Anson said as he pulled down a map of the local archipelago. It was virtually identical to what I'd seen in text books. I immediately found the southeastern most islands where we were, and the middle where the NRA was. "This is our target, held by Lazurian Naval Infantry of unknown strength." He motioned to the island to our immediate west. "Allied forces were unable to conquer it, and appear to have been completely destroyed." The 49th may have been veteran soldiers, but Lazuria had been more than willing to fight, it seemed. I wondered if that short private was one of the men lost there.

"The battle plan is as follows," Lieutenant Anson continued as he pulled down a zoomed map of the island. This map gave us a detailed layout of the streets and buildings. There were three hotels, two on the eastern beach and one on the south. Two main roads ran horizontally through the island. The northern road ran through an area full of Lazurian summer dachas—supposedly built by Rubinelle POW's of the last war if you believed propaganda. The southern road ran through the island's shopping district. A number of smaller ones connected the two roads and the northern and southern beaches. West of the city were ship terminals where passengers got on and off.

"The island will face air and naval bombardment before Lieutenant Lin's command lands," Lieutenant Anson explained. "Our forces will be landing on the western side. Once we land, we'll split into two groups, one under me and the other under Lieutenant Anderson, and advance down the main street into the center of the island, engaging enemy forces as we advance. Once enemy resistance has subsided, we'll hold the island until reinforcements arrive."

"I'm not going to waste my breath reminding you about Lazurian Naval Infantry," Lieutenant Anderson warned. By now, all of us knew what to expect. "The air and naval forces will initiate the operation in half an hour. You can watch, you can sleep, or you can get your gear together, but anyone who isn't at the heliport in two hours will deeply regret it," he warned. "Dismissed." Though all of us got up to leave the building, I noticed both the lieutenants disappear further into the building. This only made me wonder more, but I didn't try and get an answer; I wasn't in any position to do so.

Our gear had already been organized, and everyone had their packs on; we could've gotten on the helicopters at any moment. By silent agreement, the entire platoon, save for the lieutenants, filed to the west of the island to watch the show. We weren't the only ones. Marines, tank crews, infantrymen, and a few support personnel that weren't busy had all taken spots. There was still plenty of room for us, though, and everyone settled down in the same area. Just a few feet from the shore, which barely obstructed the view, the Wolves' two warships and gunboats were sitting still in the water. Men and women were out and about there, too.

"That is pretty close, isn't it?" Someone asked. We learned in school that part of the reason this battle had been so bloody was because of the little islands and the sea between them. Thousands of men had been crammed onto small tracts of land to where fighting literally came down to knives, and thousands more had gone down in their landers while trying to move through the seas. It was fact, but it was hard to imagine. Staring at one of those islands now made it much easier.

I could barely see the island we were supposed to take in the distance. Pulling out my binoculars, I could plainly see the two hotels from the map, the logos slightly blurred through the lens to make them out. But I could see it all right, and anyone looking from there could see this island, too. Swerving my binoculars to the right, I could make out another island in that direction, where our allies were. And turning completely towards the north, I could make out the final, large strip of land.

_This would be even uglier if the fighting is on a larger scale._ Anti-air and anti-ship missiles, as well as some modern artillery could cross ranges past the human sight. It was actually fortunate to everyone that there weren't that many people fighting this time. We'd all kill each other off in a few days' time. _I wouldn't want that... Victoria wouldn't either._

Settled, all everyone could do was to wait for thirty minutes until the operation commenced. And we got one of the most obvious signals possible: three A-10s roared over the beach at low altitude and high speed. They were on their way to clear the island. As they disappeared into the distance, a few people got up and returned to the island's interior for what was probably more work.

About twenty minutes later, the A-10s flew back over us to land. None of us could know exactly how well their mission had gone, but if they were all back it seemed that the mission was a success. Pressing the binoculars back to my eyes, I was certain I could see a black plume in the distance. They'd hurt someone, that was for sure. There was increased activity on the ships, but they hadn't moved out yet, which meant the aerial bombing wasn't over.

Less than ten minutes later, a large shape in the sky appeared; it turned to be one of our B-52s as it got closer. _Where's the other one? Was it shot down? _Confused, I scanned the sky with my binoculars, but I couldn't spot anything else. It was just that one bomber, and the second wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Whoa." I stopped wondering as the plane reached the airspace over the island and released its load. Bright explosions went off all over the island, easily visible from here.

"I guess they didn't need both," I heard someone remark. I watched the bomber circle the island, drop a few more bombs, and then fly back south. It was then that the ships started moving. I put down my binoculars and watched them sail towards the distance. A few minutes later, the naval bombardment started. Peering through my binoculars, I saw fire erupt from the ships and then on the island. This went on for some time.

We sat there and watched. As the hour approached, most of the privates and a few of the corporals and sergeants got up and headed back for the helicopters. A couple of us didn't, me included. All of us had our binoculars out, and I'm sure we had the same train of thought. Up until this time, there'd always been a pattern in the artillery fire. The ships would fire… and then there'd be counter fire. There was still an artillery gun on that island.

_That means trouble. _The most powerful part of the assault would be the Marines and their armored vehicles. But if that artillery gun was there, how could they safely land? The simple answer was they couldn't. _ If we had more ships and men, we would risk it, but every single one of our soldier counts… _And if they didn't land, odds were we weren't going to, either. I got on my radio to reach one of the lieutenants and see if they knew anything.

"What is it, Coleman?" Lieutenant Anderson responded, and I expressed my concerns about the operation.

"Do we still proceed, sir?" I asked.

"Negative, sergeant," Anderson replied. In the background, I thought I could hear a lot of commotion. "They're coming up with a new plan now. The landing is being postponed for the time being."

"Yes sir." I answered, and I set the radio down. "The assault has been postponed due to enemy resistance." I explained to the platoon members, mostly my own squad, who were still around. Some groaned, some shook their heads, and others looked relieved. I stared back at the island. The firing had stopped, and it looked like the ships were sailing _away_ from the island.

This was a pivotal battle... and the start was already turning into a disaster. In a battle, bad luck tended to be consecutive. _What if I don't get to go back again?_

X Tim, Day One of Greyfield Strikes X

"You lose faith in a plan when the first step goes to shit!" I said as I zipped up my flight suit. When we'd got here, we hadn't been that struck by awe or concerned about the battle area as other people were. What was the point in mulling over something that had happened a generation ago and had no significance now? We always knew that you were stuck in the place Life put you; you just had to do whatever you could. _Besides, Life's only job is to screw us all._

No, we just waited for our helicopter to be moved to a vacant parking lot—the battalion's new heliport—and for them to set up a small barracks in a nearby office building. We changed out of our flight suits and took some time to relax, bullshitting with the others about how the battle would turn out based on a map they'd set up for us. We'd been told we (Company A) would move out after the island in the west was taken, but we figured it wouldn't be for a day at the most.

But that wasn't the case. Somehow, somewhere along the plan, something had gone wrong. And now, despite the reorganization, Jessie, Darren, Sarah, and I were being detached and sent on some emergency mission or another. The 12th Battalion rarely fucked up though, so I was wondering what could possibly derail things.

Sarah got her flight suit on a second later and we rushed out of the room, meeting Jessie and Darren in the lobby and heading out together. Our two helicopters were already being refueled and armed with missiles, rockets, and unguided bombs. Standing out there and waiting for us was Captain Brenner. He turned as we approached, and we all stopped and saluted.

"At ease. We're short on time," Captain Brenner explained. He turned and pointed west. "Lazuria is determined to hold that island at any cost." He said it like he'd expected it, but still didn't like it. "They somehow kept a self-propelled artillery piece intact through the carpet bombing and have been trading fire with our ships for over an hour now. We think they're somewhere in the business section of the island."

_That's a lot of shells. These guys are going all in; do or die._ There wasn't anybody much more dangerous than that.

"There have been a lot of close calls, and we're burning through our own shells too fast. We can't risk the ships, but at the same time we can't launch an amphibious landing with that artillery there. We need all our men and our ships." I immediately knew where this was going.

"You want us to take it out?" Darren beat the three of us to the punch. Captain Brenner nodded.

"Quickly. And take out any other enemy troops you see. I'd rather have the island intact... but I don't think Lazuria would let us, even if we tried a more controlled approach." Captain Brenner shook his head. "Those are your orders." He then stepped out of our way, and nodded. That was our cue to run to our helicopters.

"Feels good to be back in this seat," I said as I shut the canopy. We both strapped ourselves in and I hit the ignition button. "What've we got?" I asked.

"Four salvos of rockets, two Hellfire missiles, and a few free-fall bombs," Sarah answered. "Definitely not a precision load out," she added. Well, there wouldn't be any armored vehicles, so why waste some perfectly good missiles? "We got full ammo for the gun," she finished as the blades got to their maximum rpm. The guys on the ground gave the signal and we raised the helicopter into the air. Both of our helicopters turned and flew west towards that damned island.

"So what's the plan?" Darren asked. "Do we just split up and look separately?"

"Might as well," Sarah answered, "it isn't that big an island." We were fast approaching now, and it swelled in front of us. We could see the two hotels on the beachfront. Most of the windows were blown out, but they were still standing and didn't look to be on fire. Sarah and I circled to the right, and Jessie and Darren to the left.

As soon as we were past the hotels, all hell broke loose below. At least a dozen rockets flew up, and maybe a hundred bullets as well._ Lucky they weren't from AAA guns…_ Dead before we knew it. All four of us swore as we pulled our helicopters out of danger. "Well, fuck you too!" I heard Darren yell. Both helicopters turned and circled around the area while the co-pilots fired cannon rounds down below. Even then a few more rockets and a ton of bullets were still coming through the air at us.

"These guys had over an hour's worth of hidden artillery shells, and then they kept all this shit through a bombardment? I feel sorry for whoever has to kick them out!" Still circling, I looked at the destroyed land below. These guys still believed it was worth their lives. "They really are against the wall." I probably felt what genuine pity was for someone other than Sarah. These guys already lost a lot, and what little they had left wasn't anything at all.

_Oh, well. I got a life too. It's just my job, nothing personal._I understood Sarah's sudden reluctance for the job better now.

"We went through a quarter of our ammo for the gun," Sarah informed me before radioing the others of our situation.

"Ditto that," Darren reported. "All quiet for now, let's go look for that artillery gun. If what they say is right, it should be on the southern side of the island." Both of us flew in that direction, keeping our space purely for safety reasons. A few more rockets were fired at us in the short time we spent flying towards that area. Hell, maybe they should carpet bomb the island one more time.

We reached the business district of the island in just a minute. Down below there were dozens and dozens of stores lined on either side of the main road, probably to cater to the rich assholes who visited. There was rubble everywhere and the whole area had been completely bombed to hell and back. Twice. I whistled softly. That bomber must've been aiming directly at this place.

"How can they hide an artillery vehicle _here_?" Sarah asked. That was a damn good question. Despite all the bombardment, most of the building frames were still standing. Bits of the masonry had been blown all over the street though, and the roofs and walls had gaping holes in them. The insides were probably worse. Sure, maybe a few guys could make a shelter out of it after the bombing, but surviving through it? Unlikely. Hiding an artillery gun in one of them so it survived? Impossible.

"There's no way in hell they hid an artillery vehicle here," I said, completely sure of myself.

"I got to agree with you there, man," Darren radioed. "Unless its crew knows magic, there's no way in hell a gun could survive here."

"Let's look further south," Jessie suggested. Based on that map, there was a hotel and a beach that way. I couldn't think of anywhere else to hide an artillery vehicle, but it was a start. We both turned and flew in that direction.

After thirty minutes, I was starting to get pissed off. We flew over the entire island three times looking for a place that could hide an artillery vehicle. There wasn't one. All of the land was cratered and clear of trees. The only place someone could hide anything was the buildings. And that was impossible: all of the houses were either burned to the ground or undamaged, the hotels had open parking lots, and the business area was nothing but a sea of rubble. We thought some elevated parking garages in the west might've held something, but that was a bust, too. To top it all off, HQ still insisted the gun was somewhere in the business area.

To make matters worse, we'd been shot at five times during our search. We'd wasted half of our remaining ammo for the gun, one of our rocket salvos, and an unguided bomb we dropped on a house. And then there was the fact that we were at 50% fuel. Either we took care of this now, or things would get worse for everyone with that shit coming down on our heads.

"Where the hell are these guys?" I growled as we circled the business sector again. This area had been completely smoked. How could anything have made it through?

"Why don't we actually try and look in the buildings?" Jessie asked. I glanced down. Most of the buildings had holes in the roof, but inside was nothing but more debris. It still seemed impossible to me. With the helicopter's sensors, Sarah might've been able to see something... if something was even there.

"I'm seeing heat sources in a few of the buildings." Darren announced, and Sarah said the same a moment later. "Might be small fires or a few guys that survived, but there's nothing that matches a Su-76. These motherfuckers are sly."

"I don't think they're even here!" I was becoming irritated. "How can anything survive what we just fired at them?" I was actually hoping one of them would answer me so I would know that I hadn't just wasted my time and risked my life. Surprisingly, I got one.

"Trenches?" Jessie suggested. "Infantry guys survived shit as bad as this if they were in trenches. They dig in tanks, don't they?"

"Ground's tore up," I reminded him. "Anything they dug would've been wrecked in the open. And there's no way they could do that in a building."

"Says who?" Jessie challenged. "Rip up the floor and foundation, dig a pit, park it in, and punch a hole in the roof. Only way it'll get destroyed is if we land a direct hit."

"Bullshit," I said to myself. There wasn't any construction equipment on this island. Assuming they could do that, they'd have to do it all by hand in just a few days. Aside from that, the bomber had dropped maybe fifty bombs, and the ships had fired at least a hundred shells. One would've landed in the pit, wouldn't it? "Am I right?" I asked Sarah.

"It's the closest thing to a lead we've got all day," she answered in a neutral voice.

"Okay then, but how would we know which building it was? Nearly all of them have holes in the roof!" I couldn't believe I was actually considering this. "If this turns out right, I'm buying you both a beer when we get back to the Capital!"

"They probably cover it with a tarp or something; that would explain the lack of heat signatures." And then I watched as Jessie actually _lowered_ his altitude so he could get a better look inside some of the buildings. There was curiosity, and then there was being suicidal. In my opinion, a stupid theory wasn't worth the risk of getting shot down.

"What about those heat sources in the buildings?" I asked Sarah. I could easily believe the fact that maybe a few people had waited out and survived the shelling. Maybe we could still do some good here.

"They don't look like they're moving," Sarah answered. That was a relief, when you looked at it.

"Find anything?" I asked the others.

"Actually, I think so," Jessie said, bringing the helicopter to a full stop above one of the many buildings below. That was just asking to get shot down. "Hold on." He raised the helicopter back up to a safer altitude. "Let's see!" Circling around still, both Sarah and I watched one of the iron bombs detach and fall directly below into the building through the hole in the roof. The bomb went off, and then it suddenly triggered a larger explosion.

"Holy shit!" Sarah and I both said it as the already wrecked building collapsed. Over the radio, Jessie and Darren were hooting wildly. They actually hid it there... goddamn, these people were desperate! Desperation made people do the impossible, didn't it?

"Movement below!" Sarah warned, snapping all of us back to focus. A rocket streaked just past Jessie and Darren's helicopter—so close the rotors actually steered it away to explode harmlessly. Bullets flew past us, and a few clanged against the helicopter as the surviving guys decided there was no reason to stay quiet. Our main mission accomplished, we expended the rest of our rockets and bombs on the enemy below, saving the missiles for another day. When the firing stopped, I got on the radio.

"Damn, I guess I got to buy you guys a beer later." I was still surprised they'd pulled a stunt that actually worked.

"Told you. You push sly motherfuckers against the wall, they get even worse!" Darren exclaimed. I snorted.

_All right, I see your point, no need to rub it in. _So I underestimated people. It happened. Still, I'd have to be a little more thoughtful now.

"Let's just call it a day and head back to base," Sarah suggested. "There isn't anything left here." She was literally right—the whole island was nothing but rubble now. We were supposed to make a base out of this place? I couldn't see how, but I let Sarah call it in. As we were ordered to head back with barely 30% fuel, we flew over nothing but ruins on the way back.

It was a hell of a way to start a battle, and I hoped the rest wouldn't be as crazy.

X James, Day One of Greyfield Strikes X

"Enemy artillery is neutralized!" The call went out over all channels. "Initiate landing operations. Repeat, green light on landing operations." In the time since the attack helicopters took off, we'd already boarded our own choppers. The ramp was already up, and the blades above roared to life. The same sound could also be heard outside the helicopter as the Special Forces and Marine elements prepared to lift off.

_Focus James,_ I told myself. _You have to focus._ I'd been stupid getting panicky earlier and thinking of personal issues. This was a battlefield; there was no room for any of that. I was a soldier, calm and composed. I blocked out any thoughts other then war from my mind as the helicopter rose into the air.

"How hard do you think they'll resist now?" A private asked as we lifted up.

"There's always survivors," Lieutenant Anson responded. "A Lazurian Naval Infantry force has never been recorded to surrender willingly on its own. Their means to resist may be low, but their will to do so isn't. Everyone be ready." I tried to do some mental calculations on the number of enemy that could be left. They might've fit a brigade on there, or maybe a battalion or two. After the aerial and naval bombardment, there couldn't be that many left. I predicted somewhere along the lines of 400-500 undersupplied enemy troops; we still had a tough fight in our hands.

"We'll circle around and drop you at a parking garage near the docks," Carpenter said over the radio, and the helicopter banked. Everyone was tense as we circled south of the island and came back up. The helicopter stopped, lowered itself slightly so that the Humvee was on the ground, and then moved over and landed itself. The ramp went down.

"Alright, go, go, go!" Lieutenant Anson ordered. Everyone stood and thundered down the ramp, and I quickly moved to detach all the sling hooks attached to the Humvee while everyone else took cover against the safety barrier. The last one came loose, swaying in the wind from the helicopter's rotors.

"You're good!" I called into my mouthpiece when it was unhitched and everyone was out. The helicopter lifted up and flew south to circle back around the island to head back to base. The second did the same. We were now alone in enemy territory, with only what was on our backs to use. I quickly joined everyone else, who were pressed against the wall nearby. Cautiously, we all peered over the wall.

The island lay in front of us, small enough that we could see all the way to the next coast. It looked to be nothing but ruins and cratered wasteland. Pillars of smoke were rising from isolated fires around the island. Down below us a road led through a security gate and into the island itself. From here all we could see was destruction. The enemy was nowhere in sight. The smells of destruction—burnt buildings, a busted sewer main and churned-up earth—drifted to us from the island center.

Lieutenant Anson peered through the scope of his rifle for half a minute, scanning the area for hostiles. Afterwards he called over the radio, "Platoon, move to ground level." Off the radio, he ordered Mellor's squad to bring the Humvee down. "Everyone move!" Our half of the platoon turned and pounded down the ramps to get to ground level while Mellor's squad pushed the Humvee down. In just a minute, both vehicles were in the parking lot below and the entire platoon was here. As everyone hunkered downed behind them, the lieutenant motioned for Anderson and the sergeants.

"Listen up." Lieutenant Anson produced a smaller version of the island map and laid it out for us to see. "The plan stands: we'll advance along the two main roads to where the Marines are landing on the eastern most beaches. Lieutenant Anderson will take Collins and Coleman's squad down the northern road," he said, pointing to Peter and Collins. Sam's squad fell directly under Anderson's command for the time being. "Coleman's squad will use the Humvees." Peter nodded. "I'll take Riddoch, Coleman, and Mellor's squads and advance down the southern road, through the ruined business sector. Questions?" There were none. "Everyone move out!"

"Mount up!" Peter ordered his squad as the platoon split up, with Lieutenant Anderson staying behind to organize a plan. The other three squads, mine included, followed after Lieutenant Anson at a moderate jog. He led us to the customs office and then past the gate onto the island itself where the road split two ways. A sign helpfully proclaimed that the residences were to the left, and the businesses to the right. We went right, still jogging at a moderate pace.

"Keep your eyes open." I warned my squad. The road we were on was completely empty for the time being, with fields on either side. But the ground was full of craters, and you never could tell where an enemy could hide. Mellor's squad hung to the left shoulder while Riddoch's squad and mine stayed to the right. The road was cratered in some places, a few ruined billboards advertised some random products, but we knew that the road wasn't the riskiest place. It would be in the city itself.

The road only went on for a mile before reaching what had been civilization, 'had' being completely literal. It was nothing but rubble, completely unsuitable for human habitation. But for a soldier, it was shelter, protection, an advantage to be taken. Lieutenant Anson held a hand up and stopped all of us well before we got into the urban jungle. He then turned to us and laid out the strategy we were to use.

"We'll advance and make sure every building is clear of hostiles. Mellor, take your squad through the buildings to the right of the street. Coleman, take your squad through the buildings on the left. Leave no stone unturned when you search. Riddoch, your squad will advance up the center in the street between the other squads. If we find ourselves engaged with the enemy, we outflank them. Understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"Advance!" He ordered, and we split up. I lead my squad to the left shoulder and the others to their designated spots as we advanced closer to the city. We were all tense now, our rifles half raised in anticipation for a sniper perhaps hidden in the ruins. We quickly discovered as we got closer that our vision was obscured by the thick dust hanging in the air, and we were glad for our masks and goggles.

"While we're searching, I want one team to act as over watch and observe the opposite rooftops for possible snipers while the other team is searching the building. We alternate tasks once we clear a building," I told my squad. "You find a soldier, you disarm him. You find a wounded prisoner, you disarm him and then treat him. Keep your eyes out for any sign of that battalion that disappeared here as well. Everyone copy?"

"Copy, sergeant," they all answered behind me.

"Alright. Karst, your squad is on over watch duty first." We were nearly in the city. "Get ready." Riddoch's squad halted, and the lieutenant motioned to Mellor and me to move up. "Go!" Running past the sign announcing the business district, we immediately charged into the cover of the first building, our weapons raised. The squad immediately split up, with Karst's fire team watching the opposite side of the street and Rockefeller's team searching the rest of the building. It was impossible to tell for sure what the building had been—probably a restaurant, for all I know. Rifle raised, I checked the behind the counter myself.

"Sergeant! We got something back here!" Mills called, grabbing my attention. By the looks of things, there were forty buildings to check on this side of the street. To find something in the first was possible, but surprising. Maybe some Lazurians had thought the edges of the sector wouldn't be as heavily hit? But it was not Lazurians we found.

"They're ours, sergeant." Mills was standing in front of what had apparently been a large cupboard, with Rockefeller shaking his head behind him. Inside, sitting up against the wall, were three men wearing the Rubinelle Army uniform, each with an airborne patch proudly displayed on their shoulder. Their eyes were closed and the paleness in their bodies confirmed they'd been dead for quite a while. The cupboard had probably protected them from the shelling, which had likely tore up any other bodies that lay in the open on the island.

_It ain't right...but we didn't have a choice._ I kneeled down to observe them. All had been shot somewhere or another, but other than that the bodies looked like they had been reasonably taken care of; they weren't absolutely crammed in here. And then I realized I'd overlooked something. "Their kits are missing." Not only were the bodies stripped of their weapons, the enemy had taken their assault vests, handgun holsters, and even their body armor as well. I quickly got on the radio to inform Lieutenant Anson of our discovery.

"There might be a stockpile of our weapons in the area," I finished, "or they might've decided to use our weapons themselves, taking them from the bodies of dead Rubinelle troops." They might've burned through a lot of their own supplies holding onto the island.

"Possibly," Lieutenant Anson agreed, "and keep the location memorized. We'll return them to their division once the island is deemed safe. Mellor's squad is still advancing. Move on to the next building." This was important, but we still had a job to finish.

"Wilco. Squad, we're moving to the next building," I called. We were on the street for only five seconds before entering the next building, which was trashed so badly that its purpose was a mystery. We did the same procedure, except that Rockefeller's fire team now covered the windows. Just after Karst called 'clear', a loud _boom _sounded in the distance—probably in the east.

"That was probably the Marine Company landing in the beaches," Lieutenant Anson told us over the radio. Since the landers were slower, we knew they'd land after us—not too long as to leave us vulnerable, but enough to be noticeable. A few more explosions drifted to us from that direction, and some more from the south. The Marines were getting a warm welcome over there. I wonder if the enemy had decided to hold up in the two hotels there. They DID overlook the beaches...

We focused on our task. Each squad advanced through the business sector quietly and professionally. Before we'd known it, we'd cleared more than half the business sector without incident. We found pieces of bodies, but it was impossible to tell to whom they belonged. The smell of burnt meat and waste that drifted over the entire island seemed to originate from here, and it was making some of us feel ill.

Combined with the sound of constant fire in the east, north, and south, and our frayed nerves, we were extremely tense by then. With a third of the business sector left, we stopped as Lieutenant Anson called all three sergeants to him. "What are your takes on this?"

"It's way too quiet here." Mellor sounded just as tense as I felt.

"The enemy might've relocated themselves," I suggested. The bombardment had been particularly intense in this area, and they might have left it.

"Yeah. They'd want to protect the beaches." Riddoch backed me up. Lieutenant Anson thought about it, and ordered us to stand by while he radioed in for information. Everyone was vigilant while we waited. There were still explosions to the east and south, and I thought I heard gunfire to the north.

"The other three elements are engaged with the enemy," Lieutenant Anson informed us. "The enemy likely didn't expect an assault from the west." So they had evacuated this part of the island...

"Does this change the plan?" Riddoch asked.

"Not immediately," Anson replied. "We'll get to it once we clear these buildings. Back to your squads! We'll have to finish fast." We all quickly hurried back and I repeated the news to my squad.

"The enemy seems to have pulled out of this part of the island, but we still need to make sure the buildings are clear, quickly and cleanly. Let's go!" Everyone got right to it. Though our pace was much faster, we still took care to check every inch of space and note each building with body parts or weapons in it, with the teams still alternating on over watch duty. We quickly cleared the business sector, and the squads converged on Lieutenant Anson to get a news update and discuss our next move.

"The landing is still proceeding as planned." Lieutenant Anson gave us good news. "The Special Forces platoon has already wiped out the enemy in the north of the island, so we know 60% of the island is cleared. But there is still heavy fighting in the east and south," he warned us. "The enemy anticipated an amphibious landing in the east and gathered the bulk of their forces there. The Marine Company has been pinned down since they landed. The platoon that dropped in the south has been held back by a company-sized enemy unit. The enemy is holed up in the hotels in both areas. Since they're reinforced buildings, our air support isn't doing much, and we can't knock them down now without hurting our own forces."

"We need to clear them by hand then." Mellor spoke our thoughts out loud.

"Affirmative," Lieutenant Anson replied. "The Special Forces platoon and Lieutenant Anderson's group are moving to the east to attack the enemy's rear. We're ordered to head south and provide support to the Marine platoon there. Understood?"

"Yes sir!" The three of us nodded and returned to our squads to inform them. Everyone looked determined when I gave them the new objective. Our half of the platoon regrouped outside before setting off.

"Good thing we're finally getting into the fight." I heard of the privates behind me say. I privately agreed with him.

_We did good finding those bodies, but it isn't fair to the other landing parties if we aren't fighting._After everyone was accounted for, we set out at a moderate pace down on of the island's many side streets. Everything beside the residential area, the business sector, and the beaches was flat, cratered landscape. This island might've been nice at one point, but it was all ruins now. Like before, we watched the fields on the side for enemies possibly hiding there.

The jog was much longer than the first and it was more than fifteen minutes before we reached the island's south on foot. The side road led south and turned west and ran the entire beach front. Restaurants and souvenir shops lined the entire road till it ended at the massive hotel. We paused just before the bend while Lieutenant Anson radioed the Marine platoon leader ahead.

I listened and noted that the exchange of fire seemed sporadic. Not only that, but the sounds were virtually identical; the enemy definitely was using our own weapons. The main bombardment must have overlooked this place, because most of the buildings weren't badly damaged, and some were even untouched, although we could see smoke rising in the distance around the hotel. Buildings like that were built to survive planes crashing into them, and plenty of them, or at least the exterior structure, had survived the meteors. That was probably why the Lazurian troops had managed lived through the bombardment.

"Listen up!" Lieutenant Anson called out to everyone after he got off the radio. "The Marine platoon is attacking the north side of the hotel. We'll move behind the buildings here and join them." When everyone nodded, he led us off. There was a little alley, which was nothing more than a dirt trail that ran behind all the buildings on this side of the road, and where the cargo areas and dumpsters were for each of the business establishments. We followed it all the way down the road.

"Hug the buildings. They may have lookouts in the top floors," Lieutenant Anson warned, and the message was passed along the line. By the time we reached the end of the alley, we could hear gunfire just a few feet away. The Marines must've been holed up in the properties closest to the hotel. One of them was standing in the back alley to meet us.

"Glad to see you finally made it," he said by way of a greeting to Lieutenant Anson and motioned inside the building. "The Lieutenant's in there. Talk to him and we'll see what we can do." Our entire group crowded through the back door and into the building—which had been an ice cream parlor. There were several Marines lying on the floor, mostly wounded, and they were being attended to. Eight were aiming out the front window, trading potshots with the enemy. Mellor's squad surged forward and filled the gaps quickly while Anson conferred with the officer in the room.

"We got ten men down, Lieutenant," The Marine officer gave the bad news first. "We know there's an enemy platoon in the lobby, and they've got a few firing positions on the second and third floor. They got us trapped here. But I'm think that with your men we can lay down enough suppressing fire to move a squad or two forward to find a way to flank them. We're not going to get anywhere pinned down here."

"Possibly. It's our best option since the Battalion's air support is busy with the eastern beach. You have men in the building next door?" Lieutenant Anson asked. When his Marine counterpart nodded, Lieutenant Anson sent Riddoch's squad around the back to join them. "Coleman, your squad will advance while the enemy is suppressed," he informed me.

"Yes sir!" I acknowledged. The Marine officer radioed a team of his own to advance when the enemy was suppressed. I quietly crept up behind the line and looked over a few shoulders to see where we'd have to cross. The hotel entrance was only 200 meters straight ahead, past a road that looped around a flagpole and a giant stone sign bearing the hotel's name. To the left was a medium-sized parking lot, filled with civilian vehicles that were probably all past saving by now. To the right was what looked like an underground parking garage entrance, its flimsy tin door lying crushed on the ground.

Save for those features, it looked like a perfect kill zone. Dozens of window panels facing these shops had been knocked out or had holes expertly carved in them. Some sections where the panels were missing had tablecloths or equally odd items strung up to block the view. The entire building front was peppered with holes, but it was hard to make out anything inside from this distance, since the inside was dark. I could tell for sure that anything trying get across could be shot from thirty different places. But once we got close...

"All right, I got a squad that will advance through the parking lot and assault the front entrance," the Marine officer informed us. I mulled over the information I gathered before laying out my plan to Anson and my squad.

"As soon as the enemy is held down, we'll hang right and leg it across and to the parking garage. There should be a few access staircases we can use to get to the other levels and flank the enemy. Everyone got that?" I got confirmation from my squad, and Anson nodded approvingly. "Stack up on me behind the front door. Ready when you are, Lieutenant."

There was a minute delay for everyone to get into position, and every second was filled with anxiety. The enemy didn't know we were here yet, and we could take advantage of the fact our strength had doubled, but only if we surprised them. Everyone else was focused on the initial attack, but I was focused entirely on my task. Everybody behind me was just as tense.

"Get ready," the lieutenants warned their men, and the fire slacked off completely as weapons were reloaded. The time to execution seemed to be just a second away.

"Suppressing fire!"

And suddenly a fusillade of rifle, machinegun, and sub-machine gun bullets were unloaded into the hotel. I let it go on for two seconds before ordering my squad to charge forward. And then we were out of the door and moving across the street. I was moving too fast to take in many details, but out of my peripheral vision I saw Marine camo to my left and shattered glass and masonry above. We didn't focus on that; we just kept running.

The initial fire had only come from the members of the platoon who were left behind. As soon as their weapons ran dry, the Marines fired. This kept most of the enemy down, but a few shots hit the pavement not too far from our pounding feet. None smacked flesh though, and in no time at all we'd crossed the gap and ducked into the ramp where we were unseen from the front entrance. I turned and looked to find my whole squad still behind me, still quivering with energy.

Then came return fire just above us—the enemy. I now know for certain those could be nothing but our weapons. If they were scrounging for supplies, it might make things easier. Not a sure thought, but reassuringly possible. "Come on," I motioned to my squad and we edged down the curved ramp, stopping just before the dark abyss inside. "Everyone get your night-vision gear on," I ordered, and there was a brief pause while everyone retrieved their equipment.

Up above, the enemy fire seemed to have shifted. Part of it seemed to be engaged with the buildings where the rest of the men were holed up, and rest seemed closer—probably that Marine squad. If we could flank the enemy, we could pit them between two forces. The battle would certainly be in our favor then.

"Everyone ready?" I asked while squinting my eyes. It was dim outside, but there was still enough light to make wearing night-vision goggles give you a minor headache. When everyone responded positively, I took a deep breath. "There may be a few sentries down here. Spread out, and shoot anything that moves. Use whatever cover you can find. Ready? Let's go!"

We rushed into the dark parking garage, only now that it was clear as day to us. Karst's team stayed with me, perhaps out of habit, as we went up the lane and Rockefeller's went to the right where the garage widened into parking spaces. It wasn't that big, and was probably reserved for certain people. There were only a few old, stripped cars down here. But as my eyes adjusted, I noticed an unmistakable shape sitting near the back.

"Tank!" Several people yelled at once. A T-34 infantry support tank that looked like it had seen better days was sitting dead against one of the walls. Various tool boxes surrounded it, suggesting that it might've been damaged in the bombardment. No one seemed to be here; they must've relocated all their men up top to fire on the Marines, and they weren't expecting us.

My theory was confirmed when several men burst out of one of the doors and made a dash for the tank, trying too late to prevent our plan. They were clearly tankers, but the other few wore what undoubtedly were infantry uniforms. "Contact!" One of them yelled first, and all hell broke loose. There wasn't much cover—the only support beams were those two in the center. Rockefeller's team took cover behind them and the few remaining cars. Caught in the open, Karst's team and I took our best option and hit the dirt.

"Don't let them near that tank!" I yelled, squeezing off five shots at one of the running men, missing all of them. In the open themselves, the Lazurian infantry were cut down by the combined fire. Rockefeller was peppering the tank with bullets, and the sparks were making the tank difficult to look at. One of the men climbed onto the tank and was flung back against the wall and slid down. The other two ducked behind the machine, taking pot shots at us with their handguns. A moment of silence came as we all aimed at the tank and the tankers didn't fire at us.

"Sergeant! Do we use AT?" I looked over to see Rockefeller beside one of his men who had the giant tube on their shoulder.

"Negative!" I shouted. "We're directly under the hotel and it's a confined space! It's too risky!"

"Fuck you!" One of the tankers yelled and leaned out to fire at us. Silhouetted against the garage door behind us, we could still be seen. The shoots missed and triggered another wave of fire at the tank.

"Get a grenade back there!" I heard Karst order one of his men. One of the Lazurian tankers cursed loudly as the lethal projectile soared over our heads. It bounced on the back of the tank and fell behind it. It exploded a second later and two bodies slumped to the ground. Silence fell upon the parking garage, and the air was quickly becoming corrupted by the smell of corpses that no longer had control over their natural functions. At my order, everyone got up and moved forward, weapons trained on the elevator and the two stairways that led down here.

"Lieutenant, this is Coleman. We've secured the parking garage with no casualties. Several enemy soldiers are down, and we've captured a damaged enemy tank. We can't destroy it just yet though," I reported in over the radio. Fire was still being exchanged above ground, but it was harder to judge what it was from here.

"Understood, Coleman. Leave a team to guard the garage and move the rest into the building. We're still pinned down here and so are the Marines at the front entrance. Flank the enemy and reduce their fire so the platoon can move up there."

"Roger," I said and then turned to my squad. I'd take Karst's team with me, since Helen was on it and we might need a medic. "Rockefeller, keep your team here and guard the tank. Once our guys come down here, guide them. Karst, you're with me. We'll head up and attack the enemy's rear. Let's move!" While Rockefeller's team took up defensive positions, we took off our night vision goggles as I led them through the door and into the building stairwell. Enough light from a roof window made it easy to see. "Keep an eye above," I warned. With our boots clanging on the steps and our weapons pointed upwards, we climbed the stairs. In here, the firefight outside was completely muffled.

We paused outside the first door two landings up that hopefully led to the lobby. Carefully, I tried to look through the small, square plate of glass in the middle of it. I saw a flash of blue and immediately jerked my head back, just fast enough to avoid the large bullet that punched through a second later. I few more went through after that. Improvising, Nies inched around me, stuck his rifle in the hole, and squeezed us a few rounds. He and Karst breached immediately after and called 'clear'. Inside the short hallway was a Lazurian Naval Infantryman who twitched twice before going still.

"Move up," I waved with my hands. At the end of the hallway was another, identical door. And automatic weapons fire was not far from it. We approached cautious, and this time Karst volunteered to peek through the window.

"Looks like some sort of lounge, sergeant. No hostiles," he reported. I looked for myself. It did seem to be a staff room of some sort, but I couldn't see the entire room through the window.

"Okay, when we go in, I want every inch of the room covered. Got it? Go!" I kicked the door open and we swarmed in and spread out. Everyone shouted 'clear!' I took a better look around the room. It was an employee meeting room of some sort. There were two locker room doors on one end of the room, and one door on the other that had to lead into the hotel, if the gunfire was any indication. "There," I pointed.

Outside the door was a hallway that branched into two, but the fire was coming from the left, so we went that way, hugging the wall. "Lieutenant, this is Coleman. We're in the staff area of the hotel, and we'll be making contact with the lobby any second."

"Copy. Report in when you have the enemy neutralized." We kept moving along the hallway. At first, I thought the enemy was smart enough to choose a building like this to hole in. But now, I realized they made a mistake. With a maze-like interior like this, they couldn't possibly hope to guard every entry point and passage without at least a battalion's worth of men. Suddenly, one of the doors near the end of the hall burst open, and a Lazurian Naval Infantryman stumbled in holding up a bleeding comrade. He froze when we saw us just a dozen yards away. He didn't have his hands on a weapon, so no one shot him.

"Don't move! Don't move" I warned. "Don't yell either!" With an expression that seemed to be a scowl mixed with regret, he put both his hands up, with the other still under the wounded man's shoulders. "Windley, Nies, take charge." Helen immediately helped ease the wounded man down, and Nies pushed the standing soldier against the wall, stripping him of the M-16 he was carrying. "Karst, Cerutti, stay with me." A deafening fusillade of gunfire was coming from the doorway where our two prisoners had just come out of.

The three of us went through and found ourselves in every infantryman's dream. The door led us to a reception stall and a massive lobby decorated by statues, a fountain, and various other things, and with the reception desk at the _back_ of the lobby. In front of us, with their backs turned, was maybe a platoon's worth of Lazurian Naval Infantry. All of them were behind cover of some sort, firing Rubinelle weapons out the hotel front to the buildings across the street. They had absolutely no idea we were here.

I didn't have to say anything. All three of us took aim at a random target and started shooting. Six enemies fell in less than ten seconds. Since they were using the same weapons as us, they didn't immediately notice the sound of our fire. And since they were spread out, they didn't immediately notice the others fall. We picked off ten of them before they noticed. Immediately, half of them turned to fire on us. We all ducked to reload, and at least a hundred bullets tore into the colored stone that the desk was made of. To my left, I thought Karst was saying something, but other than gun fire and the angry shouting and cursing, I couldn't hear anything. Then two little spherical items bounced over the counter top and landed around us: grenades.

One was close to my left foot, and I lashed out without thinking and kicked it up under a fax machine in the corner of the room, where it exploded harmlessly. To my right, one had landed right beside Cerutti. He tore of his helmet and firmly planted it with his hands holding it down just a second before it exploded. It wasn't loud enough for me to prevent me from hearing his screams after it did. Then something—I was almost certain it had been an RPG—detonated against the other side of the stall. The sound was deafening and showered us with some debris.

For a wonder, it held, but I quickly realized we'd taken what advantage we could, and that staying here wasn't safe. I looked at Cerutti again, and I could see blood dripping through his gloves and onto the tile floor; his helmet hadn't absorbed all of the shrapnel, but Karst and I were okay. "Fall back!" In case he couldn't hear me, I pointed to Cerutti and then through the door from which we'd came. He nodded, and I scrambled over to Cerutti's right side while Karst stayed on his left. Making sure his injured hands didn't touch the ground, we moved across the floor on our hands and knees, dragging him and leaving his weapon and helmet behind.

We were nearly to the door when I felt something bite into my legs. Karst and I both swore out loud, and Cerutti screamed again. We didn't turn to see what it was; we could still move, and we got back through the door. Karst kicked it close behind us. Helen, Nies, and our two prisoners were still in the hallway. "What happened?" Helen shouted at us, and she got up to meet us while I explained.

"We got the drop on the enemy, but they blew us out of our cover." Karst and I stood, bringing Cerutti with us. Helen lifted Cerutti's hands to look at them, and gave us both a once over.

"You're both bleeding!" Karst and I looked down and saw a little bit of blood staining our camouflaged pants.

"Must've been grenade fragments," Karst commented. I didn't feel it now, and I could put pressure on my foot, so it wasn't that bad. I still remembered I'd gotten hit with a grenade the first time we'd fought Lazuria—that had been bad. I glanced to make sure Nies still had the able bodied prisoner subdued and started issuing orders.

"We need to relocate; the enemy knows we're behind them now. I'll take the point. Windley, take the wounded prisoner and follow me. Cerutti, can you walk?" His face was still twisted in pain from the metal fragments in his hand, but he nodded. "Okay, follow Windley. Nies, bring the prisoners. Karst, watch our six. Now move!" We quickly moved down the hall and away from the enemy.

_Was that worth it?_ It was a random thought that I had as my adrenaline ebbed slightly.

"Sergeant Coleman, are you there?" Lieutenant Anson's voice came over the radio. "The Marines reported a disruption in the enemy fire."

"Yes sir, we're here." I breathed. "We found a spot in the enemy rear and opened fire. We killed ten of them, but they retaliated with grenades and RPGs. We have one man wounded and two prisoners, one wounded. We're relocating," I reported.

"Relocate back to the parking garage, sergeant." Anson ordered. "Your attack distracted the enemy and allowed the Marine squad to get a foothold in the lobby. The enemy is falling back to the upper levels and we're about to force a crossing."

"Roger sir, we'll head back to the parking garage." I got off the radio. _So it was worth it..._ I thought with relief. We went back the exact way we'd came, and we walked through the doors back into the dark parking garage in no time. We didn't have to put our night vision gear back on; Rockefeller's squad had turned on some flood lights the Lazurians must have used to help them see what they were working on.

"You okay, sergeant?" He called when we came through.

"Fine, corporal," I assured him. "We got two prisoners here," I motioned towards the men Nies and Helen were carrying; Rockefeller's fire team covered them with their weapons. "The rest of the platoon crossed yet?" I listened, and the enemy fire had slacked off to near silence. A moment later, there was movement on the ramp and the rest of our group came down. There were three wounded with them.

"Coleman. Good job with the flanking maneuver." Lieutenant Anson came over and greeted me.

"Thank you, sir." After the excitement of the charge and the brief firefight, I felt some of the fatigue starting to come down on me with the lull. "But Cerutti is wounded, perhaps permanently." Some veterans from the last war had lived with metal fragments stuck in them since then. It didn't seem fair for him to suffer such an injury this close to the war's end, but that was war. Lieutenant Anson nodded and took a brief look at Cerutti's hands. He didn't comment and instead confronted the able-bodied prisoner.

"How many men are in the hotel?" He demanded. The Naval Infantryman looked pale standing in the floodlight, and his eyes were wide. His nostrils flared as we looked at the lieutenant, but he didn't answer him. Why would he? He'd just been captured while his friends were killed. That was unfortunate too...but war was war. Lieutenant Anson didn't wait for an answer, and started addressing the group.

"Leave the wounded here," he ordered, and the three wounded were laid down beside the tank.

"Mellor..." I noticed the new sergeant with a bandage wrapped tightly around his right leg.

"Bullet caught me from the second story as we were crossing," he explained, "but it isn't that bad." He sounded upbeat. The other two casualties they had were also shot, but they looked okay. Helen was busy going between our wounded men and the wounded prisoner.

"Sir, the sergeant and the corporal are injured as well," she informed him, jerking her head at me and Karst.

"It's just a nick, sir," I explained, appreciating her worry but not letting it sink in. "We can still move." I could feel a slight wetness on the back of my legs, but it still wasn't much.

"He's right sir," Karst confirmed. Lieutenant Anson nodded and continued his address.

"The enemy has positions on the 2nd and 3rd floors, as well as observation posts higher up. Our forces have successfully breached the hotels on the east beaches and are clearing them now. We have to clear each room on each floor; do not leave the enemy a place to hide. Understand?"

"Yes sir!" It was much louder in this confined space. Lieutenant Anson kept Rockefeller's team there, as well as Helen, and ordered one of Mellor's fire teams to stay as well. He led the rest of us back into the hotel and had me direct him to the lobby. When we got there, we found the Marine lieutenant and one of his squads still there. I noticed that Cerutti's weapon was missing.

"Hope you told your men they did a good job, lieutenant. This is one of the finest flanking attacks I've ever seen!" It was plain to see most of the enemy had been shot without knowing what hit them. I looked back of the front desk we'd taken cover behind just minutes ago, and was shocked to see the rocket had nearly blown through it; there must've been only three inches of stone left between our backs and the enemy bullets.

Lieutenant Anson nodded and discussed their next move. "There are a lot of back rooms on this level, but there are a lot of floors above, as well." The Marine lieutenant nodded.

"One of my men found a map; there are twenty rooms and a supply room per floor, and twenty-four floors total, plus a pool on the roof. I got my men scouring the 2nd floor, but Sergeant Duncan behind me has already cleared the ground level." The Marine officer grimaced. "They had a lot of bodies in the kitchen—ours and theirs. Something will have to be done with them." Lieutenant Anson nodded.

"How would you suggest we conduct the search?" Lieutenant Anson asked. The Marine lieutenant grimaced again, and it was obvious the next few words were forced.

"I had two more men wounded, and I had to leave behind nine of my men to care for all of the casualties and to watch the street for enemy stragglers who might come in. We radioed for medevac, but it might be for a while. Aside from Sergeant Duncan behind me, I got fifteen men." The Marines were proud, and he didn't like admitting his losses. "Since the floors are big, I suggest we combine our forces—have two teams lock down the stair cases and the rest search the rooms."

"I agree with you—it's the most thorough method. We'll head to the third floor—gather your men and meet us there." The officers agreed on the plan, and we split up and headed for the stairs. Having posted the rear guard and leaving the casualties with them, we had just barely over a dozen soldiers left. The Marines had twenty one men—about a platoon of infantry total. I remembered my thought earlier about the enemy not having enough resources to secure the whole hotel; the shoe was on the other foot now.

_That's the price of victory._

We found the stairwell and moved to the third floor. Lieutenant Anson ordered Mellor's other fire team to hold the stairwell and for the rest of us to start clearing rooms. Riddoch's squad split into half and started breaching rooms on the right side of the hall. Behind Lieutenant Anson, Karst, Nies, and I breached rooms on the left. When the lieutenant motioned with his pistol, I kicked down the door and the four of us stormed inside.

"Check the bathroom, closets, and under the bed!" Anson ordered, and the remainder of my squad split up to search. The room was massive, probably bigger then some apartments even, but a lot of furniture was missing, what was left was covered in dust, and the air seemed stale. It seemed as if no one had been here in forever, but we searched regardless.

"Seems quiet," Karst observed. "If they had positions on these floors, why did they abandon them and head up?"

"It isn't easy to defend a place like this," Lieutenant Anson stated. "They may just be trying to wear us out."

_They're still fighting to the end, like any other soldier._

"Room clear?" Lieutenant Anson asked all of us. When we confirmed, he nodded. "To the next room." With the same careful and methodical approach as the business sector, we checked each room on the left side of the hall, trailing only slightly behind Riddoch's squad. Before we reached the middle of the hall, Marines filtered in from the other staircase and started checking rooms from that end. The rooms on the northern (right) side had been turned into machine gun positions, sniper nests, firing ports, and such, but on the southern (left) side, the rooms might as well have been in a condemned building.

"It's weird," Nies commented as we checked a room in the middle of the hallway. "This place is close to Lazuria, but they clearly haven't been using it till now. Why?" Before anyone of us could answer, Lieutenant Anson cut in.

"Shut up and keep searching." Startled into silence, we did. The gap closed soon, and the four of us breached a room at the same time as a Marine squad did the one next door. We burst in and spread out. Unlike the other rooms, the windows and a portion of the wall had been knocked down, giving a view of the beach and sea below. I circled around the bed and went to investigate. I spotted movement to my right, and twisted around with my rifle raised at a Marine in the next room, who was also aiming at me. After two seconds, we both lowered our weapons.

"That could've been ugly!" The Marine declared as he looked at the damage. The wall between the two suites had been broken down as well, big enough for a person to move between each. "Sorry about that." He stuck a hand through the hole, which I shook after a moment.

"It happens," I said, trying not to imagine dying in a friendly fire incident. "It looks man made," I commented, which brought the lieutenant over to investigate.

"Yeah... Hey Lucky!" The Marine sergeant called to one of his squad mates, and one came over with a sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. "This looks like a sniper's perch, doesn't it?" The Marine sniper looked over it herself and nodded.

"Definitely, Yankee," she said, and then glanced up to Lieutenant Anson. "Perfect set up, isn't it lieutenant?"

"Yes. Might've been an observation point, but it is empty now," he said. "Hmm... They had most of their firepower pointed towards the island's interior," he observed, and I realized it myself: the enemy had only occupied the side of the hotel that gave them a line of fire inside the island. Logically, you'd think they'd focus on the south where the beaches were and where the enemy could land. Instead, they'd left it uninhabited.

"What are you thinking, sir?" I asked.

"I'm thinking the enemy was originally holed up somewhere other than this hotel and only moved here after the paratrooper assault. Most of these positions looked hastily constructed.'

"So that means the rest of the hotel won't be as messed up on the upper levels?" The Marine sergeant guessed.

"Correct," Lieutenant Anson nodded, "and they won't be as prepared as they could be." There was an odd tone in the way he spoke.

"Is something wrong with that, sir?" Nies asked. Lieutenant Anson took a moment to answer his question.

"It's not what they did last time," he said at last. "It worked extremely well last time, and I expected them to repeat their plan. It appears they didn't." Lieutenant Anson looked around the room. "It could mean a lot of things." He didn't explain further. All four of us and the five Marines glanced up at the ceiling—in the direction where the enemy was.

"Well, we'll win whatever they are doing!" Karst sounded confident. That sapped the uneasiness that had overcome everyone present.

"Correct," Lieutenant Anson nodded, and then got back to the business at hand. "Is this room clear?"

Yes sir!" The three of us answered.

"That should be this entire floor then. Everyone, back into the hallway!" We filed back out, and found it crowded. All the rooms had been cleared, and everyone was in the hallway. The lieutenants met, spoke to each other briefly, and then ordered everyone to the next floor. We headed to the fourth floor and cleared it, finding no people and even less signs of inhabitation.

We continued to clear floor after floor. After the third floor, the hotel really did seem like it hadn't been used in a decade, but we knew that wasn't the case. There was an enemy force waiting up there. With the stairways guarded and the elevator completely destroyed, they had nowhere to go but up, and that's where we were heading. We'd run into them soon, and that's where we would be when things got intense again. They may have been low on weapons, but they were determined and the hotel was cramped. We might have more casualties... But we'd be ready; we were just as willing to fight to the finish as they were, and that was what would make the inevitable contact difficult.

But we pressed on anyway.


	52. Greyfield Strikes II

X James, Day One of Greyfield Strikes. X

The mood was tense. We'd gotten all the way to the fifteenth floor without incident. The hotel was completely untouched here, and there weren't many floors left. We would definitely be having some contact soon. Any kind of talk had stopped a few floors down, and we communicated solely by hand signals. If the enemy was moving above us, we couldn't hear them, but they definitely could hear us kicking down doors and pounding up the staircases.

The first contact came on the seventeenth floor. Maybe those two men had chosen to make a stand on their own, or maybe they'd been ordered to, but as soon as each team breached the doors on the opposite ends of the floor, the two Lazurian Naval infantrymen in the center fired RPGs in each direction.

"Watch out!" It had been members of Riddoch's squad that breached the door, and they immediately shut it. Crammed in the stairway, everyone huddled against the wall a second before the rocket hit the door. Unlike the stall on the ground floor, the door didn't stand a chance; the rocket went right through it. The men closest shrieked and fell back, causing the others to fall on one another. One unfortunate man was knocked over the railing, and his panicked screaming was repeatedly interrupted by meaty _thuds_ as he fell down. The screaming stopped, but the thuds didn't.

"Everyone get up! Keep the wounded safe and return fire!" Lieutenant Anson yelled over the cursing that filled the comm. sets. A few people had already gotten into the hallway and opened fire before I could pull myself up from the tangle.

"Who fell?" Riddoch shouted. "Go look!" He ordered two of his men that weren't injured. Three men had been injured in the explosion and were quickly being set out of harm's way while we tried to put together an effort in clearing the rooms. Amid the shouting and cursing, the Marines were doing the same things. Nies, Karst, and I forced our way into the hallway and started clearing rooms at a sloppier pace. Our speed was slower since we just had some of our men incapacitated.

I gritted my teeth when Riddoch reported that the man was K.I.A and said that he was heading back down with some of his squad to move the wounded. Now, there were less than twenty men between us and the Marines. The floor was clear; it was just those two men. Having to inevitably walk over them, I gritted my teeth again when I saw the snarls still etched onto their face.

_I wonder if the rest will be like that. I'm fighting for family. What are they fighting so hard for?_

"Clear!" The floor was declared safe, and the lieutenants stopped to quickly discuss the downward turn of events. Everyone hunkered down in the hallway and watched the doorways. Everyone was alert and no one's finger was away from their trigger. Whatever they discussed, retreat clearly wasn't one of the options. They ordered us to the next floor. By the time we got to the stairway, all the casualties had been evacuated to the lower levels. That was good, because the stairway turned into a war zone.

From a few floors above, an unseen enemy fired down at us, forcing the two men assigned to do over watch and the rest of us to shrink back against the wall. "Contact, above! Spread out!" Lieutenant Anson ordered, and people started inching back down the stairs, some firing upwards. Although the stairway was cramped as it was, there were much room to aim, and the stairs largely hid everyone. Where the bullets struck it, they ricocheted. Some just went down, which was still worrying because our casualties might still be on the staircase. Others bounced _towards _us. _Damn, these guys are using the environment to their maximum advantage! _Soldiers visibly jumped as bullets struck the wall beside them or even between them. I nearly had a heart attack when one smacked into the wall beside my head. It bounced off my helmet and rolled away and over the side.

And just like that it stopped. We heard the pounding of feet, a door being slammed shut, and then all we heard was our own breathing and a few casings still falling down the stairway.

"It's over," someone breathed.

"Everyone okay? Roll call!" Lieutenant Anson ordered. I glanced around me. Karst and Nies were just fine, and everyone was still standing. A few people were pawing places where a ricocheting bullet had grazed them or torn through the fabric of their uniforms, but no one was bleeding. A little hesitant at first, the last handful of soldiers shouted their names. Everyone was okay. After a quick roll call from the Marines who were in the other stairwell, Anson received word that they were unharmed as well. The enemy had slowed us down with both attacks, but they wouldn't stop us. _We'll throw them off the roof if we have to._

"Coleman!" The lieutenant called and motioned upwards. I nodded and motioned to Karst and Nies. They came behind me and the three of us went up the first dozen steps, constantly alert for another attack. The rest of the squad began to filter behind us. We were almost at the door of the next floor, and I reached my hand for the handle, anticipating the sound of gunfire as soon as I turned it. As I was about to motion for Karst and Nies to prepare their flash bangs, a whole different sound rang in our ears.

"All forces hold fire. I repeat, all forces are ordered to disengage and retreat to a safe distance." Captain Brenner's message came over the comm. network, the sudden noise enough to spook us. "Repeat, all forces disengage and fall back."

"What the hell? I said out loud, still keeping one hand on the door and the other one on my rifle. I heard similar expressions from all the men around me.

We were to disengage from the enemy? Here? What, we were running away? An order was an order, but we'd been engaged with the enemy for several minutes now, had a lot of our men wounded, and were literally about to finish them off. Why now? My grip on my rifle tightened when Lieutenant Anson ordered everyone to halt.

"Sergeant?" I heard one of my men ask. "What do we do?" I was a soldier, and I followed orders. It was completely senseless—but it was an order nevertheless.

"We do what the lieutenant says." I responded, not looking at whoever it was. "Lieutenant Anson!" I called. "What do we do?" The lieutenant took his time answering my question that I had to repeat it. He gave an uncharacteristic jerk of his head.

"Platoon! Fall back to the lobby! That's an order! Coleman, have your squad watch our six. Now, move!" The stairway was completely silent for a few moments as that sunk in. The whole hotel might've held its breath. Confused and severely worn down, our half of the platoon descended the staircase several floors to the lobby below. Our weapons remained pointed up.

We got back to the lobby about the same time as the Marines, and both groups stood among the ruins and the bodies that lay scattered about in confusion. I could see on their faces that they were thinking the same thing: What the fuck had just happened? The Marine lieutenant grabbed his radio and roared that exact question. I wished I could do the same. _What is the Captain doing? _If anything else, this would just encourage the enemy. As a moment of silence passed, in which we could only assume the rest of the Battalion who were fighting on the island had disengaged, the Captain got on the radio again to explain.

"All 12th Battalion forces, this is Captain Brenner. We are giving the enemy a chance to surrender—" we missed the next few words due to the many (usually profane) exclamations that came from all of the men gathered, "—to receive enemy prisoners. If the garrison does not surrender, the operation will resume. I trust all of our men to respect the laws of war on this matter." He ended the transmission.

"Surrender? Them?" Riddoch sounded in disbelief, and both Anson and the Marine lieutenant were shaking their heads. We had always known that Lazurian Naval Infantry didn't surrender. Sure, I could see the Captain wanting to resolve things without further casualties, but if this failed it gave the enemy an opportunity to prepare themselves. It just didn't make sense.

"Okay, okay, listen up!" The Marine lieutenant grunted and seemed to speak to everyone. "Let's remember that they're the battalion COs; they know more about the overall situation than we do," he reminded us. "Maybe they have a bargaining chip to use." He didn't sound like he believed it either.

"Correct. An order is an order," Lieutenant Anson also reminded us, "and we will comply with it." He was right about that. The order may not have made sense to us, but it did to our superiors, and so we had to carry them out. The officers set their men up around the lobby to points where we could cover the entire area. Karst, Nies, and I were posted to guard one of the stairway doors. Just a few feet away was the Marine squad we'd met earlier. After things were set up, the lieutenants went around, quickly checking up on the men and the wounded they'd left down here. The silence, which was not only in here but also around the whole island, was even more unsettling now. _All quiet on the southern front._

"What do you make of this, sergeant?" The Marine squad leader called to me. "It seems iffy to me."

"Seems strange to me too... Sergeant Duncan, wasn't it? I'm Coleman."

"Everyone calls me Yankee," the Marine corrected me. "You think this will actually work?" History would say otherwise... but these were special circumstances. I tried to imagine myself in the same situation. Would I surrender when doing so meant my country and my family would be left to the mercy of the enemy? No. Then again, assuming they followed the rules of war like we in the 12th Battalion did, I would eventually go home alive to what family I had... _ It did happen to Anson and Anderson in the last war, didn't it?_

Underneath my mask, my face twisted into something between horror, embarrassment, and anger, fortunately unnoticed by everyone else. "Honestly, I really don't know." I shook my head. "Seems at least slightly possible," I conceded, "but we would have to give them a good reason."

Karst spoke up in reply. "All we can offer them is their life. And so far from what we've seen, they've never been ones to value it. No offense, Sergeant."

"None taken, Corporal. Just keep an eye on that door." There was silence, but I did overhear the Marine squad discussing among themselves.

"This place reminds you guys of home near the coast, doesn't it?" The larger Marine addressed the sergeant and the sniper. "Things seemed a whole lot simpler when football practice was the biggest thing to worry about."

"That was a long time ago, Bulldog," the sniper answered. "We got other things to worry about." Overhearing their conversation, I couldn't help but remember how I had barely thought of home the past year, and how it was bothering me even now. Was everyone bothered or did they just hid whatever it was they felt? Or was it just me? I didn't have time to think about that, because there was a knock on one of the doors that led from the stairways. Rifle sights immediately snapped over the door's small center window. A moment later, there was a similar knock on the door the Marines were covering.

Slowly and cautiously, a hand appeared behind it and moved before retreating. A moment later, a face, likewise covered by a mask, peered through at us, or more likely at our rifles. I gave a sharp jerk with my left hand. "Come on out!" I called. The face retreated, and then there was creaking as the door was slowly pushed open. First appeared two hands, two arms, a foot, and then the Lazurian Naval Infantryman slowly came out from behind the door, with his hands held high. Another Naval Infantryman emerged from the other door, and both doors were closed behind them.

"I am Captain Aleksandr Vasov of the 205th Naval Infantry Battalion. This is Lieutenant Pavel Ivanov," he said cautiously, using his head to motion to the other man. Aside from a pistol belt on Vasov, the two were unarmed. "We have come to discuss terms for our surrender." He said it bitterly, but stood fast. Both squads readjusted themselves as our lieutenants came up so that the two enemy soldiers were against the wall and could be fired at from two sides if they tried anything. The Marine lieutenant approached them with his rifle slightly raised, and so did Anson with his handgun. They introduced themselves, and we got a front row seat to the negotiation.

"We have been guaranteed humane treatment for our remaining fifty-four men and women if we surrender. Is this true?"

"We can provide those terms," Lieutenant Anson assured him.

"But only if you surrender right now," the Marine officer added with a growl. The Lazurian captain pulled down his mask, revealing a scowl.

"You kill thousands of our men and raze our territory, but you expect us to give up without hesitation? You are fools." He spat at the lieutenant's feet, and we braced ourselves for the possible continuation of hostilities.

Lieutenant Anson, however, was unfazed. "We will allow you to bury your dead here," he offered. "We are willing to negotiate our terms, but we will in no way halt our offensive." I could see both Lazurians trembling with rage at their words, and I was almost certain there would be no surrender. To our surprise, the Lazurian captain stopped and asked another question.

"How can we be sure that this is not a ruse?"

"We treat our enemies the same way they treat us," the Marine said. I initially thought it was another threat, but it turned to be something else. "You treated our fallen men with respect even though they attacked you here and killed your men. In return, we're willing to treat your people with the same respect. Is that enough for you?"

_ I guess it was because of the bodies we found earlier… None of our guys' corpses were mutilated, at least by their hands. _The Lazurian captain finally deflated, and relaxed his hostile pose.

"I have one last request: I wish to contact my superiors and inform them of our surrender." Over the radio? They must've lost their communications to their HQ after the first assault. That also explained the lack of coordination and assistance from the other Lazurian forces. Lieutenant Anson nodded, removed the radio pack from his back, and slid it over to Vasov. He knelt down and adjusted the frequency. When he found his own, he started speaking, looking directly at us the entire time.

"This is Captain Aleksandr Pavlovich Vasov, surviving senior officer of the 205th Naval Infantry Battalion, directing a message to Major-General Gage." He swallowed hard before continuing. "The island and our positions have been overrun, and we are no longer capable of fighting." He was gritting his teeth harder as he continued. "The enemy has given us to chance to surrender, and has promised humane treatment for my remaining forces, in accordance with international conventions. To prevent further bloodshed, I am surrendering the battalion." There was a brief pause, in which the captain was trying to fight back his tears before continuing. "The island of Lutsk... has finally fallen." He shuddered at that last bit. And then, sluggishly, he returned the radio to Anson. He removed his sidearm belt and handed it to the Marine lieutenant; it was a sign of surrender. He then quickly spun around and put his mask back on. The Lazurian non-com nodded cautiously at the Marines watching him and guided his superior back into the stairway to announce his decision to their men.

"When they come down, I want you two to make sure they're unarmed. If they have any weapons on their hands and in their gear, confiscate it," The Marine lieutenant growled, and Anson nodded in agreement.

"We'll gather all of them in the parking garage," Lieutenant Anson suggested. "We'll move the wounded back to our original staging point." Both officers got on their radios to issue the necessary orders. The Marine squad and the three of us waited, still cautious, for the enemy to return.

"I can't believe that worked..." Nies sounded awed.

"It's weird. It's a good thing, of course, but it's still weird!" Karst sounded bewildered. I was... surprised of course, but at the same time I couldn't help but be relived. A little less fighting meant a lesser chance of dying.

_And no more of our guys would die, of course..._ Why had that been an afterthought?

A minute later, the very people we'd just been trying to kill emerged from the stairway the Marines were guarding. The three of us quickly shifted over there to help. One by one, a few dozen men and women trudged out, their faces and feelings hidden behind their masks, but there was no mistaking their defeated posture. None of them had the strength even to glare at us; these people had truly reached the end of their wills.

In spite of what their CO had said, all of them were armed, and they moodily deposited their weapons in a steadily-growing pile beside us as they passed, both Rubinelle-made and their own empty pieces. Assault rifles, sub-machine guns, pistols, grenades, knives, and even a few rocket launchers sat in the pile as the last man passed. It was a good haul, one that we could use to help our own supply situation.

Unarmed, all the prisoners lined up in the lobby, surrounded on all sides by armed men who would've shot them if they chose to resist. For safety reasons, we inspected their gear bags and turned out all of their pockets. None were found, although we did allow them to keep any rations they had. _We just can't spare any more for them at the moment… _After that, we marched them out of the building front and down the ramp into the parking garage, with Marine machine gunners on the opposite side of the street watching them.

In the parking garage, they were all shepherded to the far side. Dazed by the sight, the one man my squad had captured had to be guided over. The wounded one was still under Helen's watchful eye, and she quickly started checking the new arrivals. I could tell they were put off by her eagerness.

_They must realize that there are people on the other side of the guns, too._Something had to cause their uneasiness. Rockefeller's squad was still down here, and guarded them as well. The Marine MG team came down and assisted them as well. The prisoners looked uneasy, but otherwise they all seemed okay. They were all able bodied too, and I didn't want to think what it would've taken to remove them by force.

We couldn't declare the southern part of the island clear just yet, though. The Lazurian captain had assured us that this was all of the survivors, but we had no way of knowing if that was true or not. The lieutenants pulled their spare men together and informed us all that negotiations were still going on between the forces on the east beach, and that we'd lost about twenty of our men killed among all three groups. I hoped Peter wasn't among them.

"It's possible that a few of them are still hiding in the hotel," Lieutenant Anson explained, "and we'll have to search the whole premises again." We were weary and tired, but all of us that they gathered to search went back in slightly better spirits. We knew the bulk of the enemy had surrendered, and it was in the realm of possibility they all had—but we had to be sure.

Again, we searched the ground floor and worked our way up. Up there, we still searched with the same caution and thoroughness as before. We found nothing new either on the ground floor or on the first ten. As we searched the twelfth, we were informed over the radio that the enemy forces on the eastern beach had agreed to surrender as well.

Before long, we stood on the roof, having confirmed that no enemy presence remained within the hotel. Up here, only the wind could be heard. Looking out over the island, almost all of the smoke plumes had disappeared too.

"Looks peaceful from up here," Karst commented. Several of the other soldiers and the Marines who were gathered here said similar things. Even with ruins covering the island, I had to admit that it did have a slightly peaceful quality to it. Four-fifths of this island was ours now, and once the other two hotels were clear, it would completely be ours.

_I hope it's worth it._During the last war, Rubinelle had lost a lot of men just to take this tiny place. It was impossible to see, but we all knew what lay in the north. There was still a lot of fighting to come, and a lot more possible casualties, too. But while destruction and death waited up there, we all knew something else did: peace.

X Tim, Day One of Greyfield Strikes. X

The battle was over. Apparently, they'd ended it by means other than just beating the shit out of them, but it was over. And now came the moving part. Companies A, B, D, and E had joined the people already there. For protection, they were still keeping a company on the island. That meant cramming everyone on a tiny-ass island covered in rubble and putting them in make-shift barracks. It had taken about five hours, but they'd gotten all of those people here, including us.

Sarah and I landed the helicopter, along with the other five helicopters the battalion had moved here, in the parking lot of the southernmost hotel. It wasn't that damaged, so the helicopters were staying here along with one of the ground companies. It wasn't that bad, but of course there were some setbacks. The lobby had been covered in blood when we arrived, and that was just the start. Apparently the bombing had torn the plumbing and the electrical wires, which were all underground, so we had no water or electricity. Also this place clearly hadn't been inhabited in several months, and it showed. We didn't like it, but we could survive. _Beats tents like in the last year, isn't it?_

There wasn't much to do while sitting on a dusty bed (the dust was enough to drive anyone's thoughts away), so Sarah and I decided to go look around the island for a while. We were brazen, but not enough to risk having some 'quality' private time when there were so many people everywhere, although we needed something to occupy ourselves. The problem was that they still had part of the island locked down for security reasons—it was something to do with what ended the battle. It was a strictly need-to-know thing. There wasn't much to see there or anywhere as a matter of fact.

Literally, the only thing to see was rubble. They may have had all these shops, but there wasn't anything left in them. It was impossible to walk anywhere without climbing over or through something. And to top it all off, the air was unbearable to breathe since the sewage line broke and they had to build some basic and rushed latrines. Sarah hadn't stopped complaining about the lack of privacy, and eventually we both found ourselves on one of the beaches, all alone except for a guy half a mile away with a pair of binoculars and looking out for the enemy. _Talk about exposed._ But at least the air seemed fresher.

"You know," Sarah said as we both sat down, "I just realized that we really haven't been in situations this bad before. Compared to every battle before, this one is a lot bigger and more intense." I thought it over and realized she was right. They'd been a little sudden, but otherwise all our battles had been short, on solid land, with good planning, and with a nice, comfortable base to fly from. This had been chaotic from the start, and it was only the beginning.

"It's always worse before the end." I shrugged. _At least that stayed true all this time._

"Do you think this will be the end?" Sarah asked. "The last battle? They made it sound important." I scratched my head and I had to think before answering. I didn't really bother with what passed as news in the Capital, so I didn't have a good idea of things.

"Maybe," I said, "things are obviously screwed up on both sides. This is the last stop before Lazuria, too. Like what the Captain said, this is an opportunity, but it isn't a guarantee." I thought a bit more and added, "They probably would do it themselves while thinking, 'Who the hell are these guys to finish this war? They just got here!'." I said that with absolute confidence. _Fine, I'll admit there are very few good people out here, but the other ones are idiots for sure._

"Yeah," Sarah nodded, "I can definitely see them taking all the credit and just sending us away, like a bunch of ungrateful bastards." She scooted over to me and we both lay down and stared at the sky. "It would be weird for things to be over just like that, given how frantic things have been recently."

"Yeah," I agreed, trying to imagine such a sudden change in pace.

"I wonder what will happen to the 12th Battalion after the war is over..." I knew full well Sarah and I were dragging ourselves into talking about things other than our jobs. I also remembered we'd pledged not to do exactly that. Screw it. Why try when we'd failed a dozen times before? At least we wouldn't feel bad about ourselves. What else were we supposed to do, anyway?

"I can guarantee you everyone's contracts expired a while ago," I said. "Once things are over, I'm pretty sure Brenner will give everyone the option of staying or leaving. A lot of them will probably want to become civilians and finally start rebuilding things. Maybe some will want to keep being soldiers. But this Battalion won't be as big as it used to be after the war, that's for sure."

"Uh, huh," Sarah agreed, and we just laid there for a few minutes, enjoying some time thinking about that inevitable moment to ourselves. Eventually, we had to leave because some engineers were checking out the beach to fortify it. We ended up walking around the island again, just passing time. When things were simpler, we could've easily just passed a day doing nothing. But now? Sarah had trained me to think _all the time_. It seemed like we always had to be doing something productive at all times; it was only inevitable. There were only a few subjects I could seriously think about, but of course I couldn't stop at just thinking about those things...

_I might as well bring it up myself; at least I'll have some control over the situation._A little reassurance would do me some good. But as always, I lacked Sarah's sneaky grace in bringing these things up. In the end, I just took the direct approach. "Why don't we stop and talk for a while?" I suggested as walked on the sidewalk outside a bunch of fancy houses. Sarah stopped short and stared at me, crossing her arms.

"Weren't you the one who didn't want to discuss these subjects?" I shrugged.

"What can I say? Thanks to you, I can't get this stuff outta my head." I poked her chest, and she shoved me back. "Part of your evil master plan?"

"You're full of it." She snorted and sat down on the sidewalk. I sat down beside her and we both leaned against the thick privacy fence separating the house and the street. We'd thought about looking in a few of them, but decided against it. An empty, isolated house on an island filled with hold-outs? _Those were the makings of a survival movie! _

"Besides, there isn't much for Air Wing personnel to do; it's all on the ground forces. Since we got a break, why not figure some stuff out?" I suggested. _Better now than an inappropriate time._

"I really was going to try and not talk about anything," Sarah fretted, "but you listened to me, so I can't really say no. Go ahead." She looked at me expectantly.

"All right." For some reason, you could plan something for a while, even months, and be completely confident about it... right until the moment that you were actually doing it. It took me a few moments to find my voice. "Answer... a 'what-if' question for me." For some reason, I made a few random hand gestures before going on. "Say that surgery didn't exist. You'll be like that forever." I felt bad putting that idea in her head, but it was for a reason. "How would things be different right now?"

"I don't think it'd be all that different." To my surprise, the question didn't catch Sarah off guard. "We'd be talking about getting regular jobs and a regular house and just keep living. We'd probably still be willing to keep some of the friends we've made here. Once the war was over, we'd settle down like the fuck-happy couple we were before we joined." She turned to look at the sky and didn't say anything else.

"Eh, I was just wondering." I tried to sound uninterested. "It seemed sometimes like the kid issue was the _only _issue. But you got me thinking that it's just another minor thing to add." I quickly noticed the sour look on her face. "Well, not minor..." I tried to save myself, "just..."

"I know what you mean." She said it somewhere between disappointment and exasperation. "I already said we absolutely don't need one, but it'd be good for the two of us."

"Maybe it would be," I admitted.

"But you're still reluctant because you think it's 'such a big step', right?" Sarah hit the nail on the head.

"Well, it is!" I defended. "It'll change our whole lifestyle, won't it? I'm still not sure we can support it."

"I already told you I can take care of it on my own," she huffed, "I—"

"Who said doing anything 'by yourself'?" I suddenly snapped. "I've never left you alone before, why would I start now? If we're doing this, we're doing it together."

"Then how about making up your goddamn mind!" Sarah rounded on me, making me flinch. The exchange struck a momentary silence between us as we stared in different directions from each other. Two fighters were up above patrolling, and you could hear the sounds of construction efforts all around the island.

_This is stupid._There were maybe ten thousand people just a couple of a dozen miles north of here who wanted to kill us, and here we were arguing over what had to be the stupidest subject brought up on a battlefield. _Why did I think this was a good idea? Fuck. _But I couldn't just drop out now, so I caved first and apologized.

"Sorry." When she didn't look, I added, "We've tried to put this discussion on hold till after the fighting and we've tried to talk about it only in certain places, but that hasn't helped at all. I was just trying to break the tension." She did turn to look at me then. Her voice started strong but faltered near the end.

"I'm glad you want to actually address this stuff, but do you have any idea how painful it is to me for that to keep getting mentioned, without making any progress? Do you?" I realized she wanted me to answer and I shook my head. "Then why? You're the one holding out. You need to decide yourself instead of dragging me into it because you can't make up your mind."

_So much for control._ The only thing I'd accomplished was getting a well-deserved 'why-I-suck' speech.

"I don't think it's that difficult of a choice to make." Sarah got up and started walking.

"Where are you going?" I called after her. She just waved towards the direction of the hotel, not even stopping. It was then that I realized she didn't want to be bothered by me. And that could only mean that I'd just fucked up horribly.

"Fuck!" I said out loud and jumped up to catch up to her. "Fuck," I muttered. How'd things go downhill _that_ fast? She wasn't running, so I managed to catch up to her while we were still on this particular road. "Hey..." I said uncertainly, not sure how to continue. "That... didn't work out how I planned."

"Oh? How did you think it'd end up?" Sarah still wouldn't look at me. "Well?" She pressed when I couldn't immediately answer.

"I don't know!" I snapped. "Jeez, I was trying to do something productive while we're stuck here and it blew up in my face!" I sighed. "I swear nothing has gone right since we got here."

"It's always worse before the end," Sarah reminded me, "and not every moment has been this bad." I was glad when she turned to say that.

"Yeah, well... I'm sorry."

"You tried." Sarah shrugged. "But I'm serious: you have to think about this yourself. And like I said, I don't want an answer until things have settled down." She moved closer. "Okay?"

"Yes, dear." I wrapped an arm around her. We left the hotel, what, an hour and a half ago? Personal life could be as fast-paced as an actual battle. "I'll try not to bring it up again." By now we were on one of the little side roads that led south, and we had to step aside for a cargo truck moving by. Again, I wondered what the hell I'd been thinking bringing _that _up in this place. I was losing my mind.

Then again, everyone must have to let things get this bad when Mother Nature already kicked us in the nuts.

I soon realized Sarah was heading back to the hotel, and that I'd pretty much killed any urge to do anything else. I felt bad about that. At the same time though, I was suddenly feeling pretty tired myself. When we actually got to the front entrance, I stopped and just waved Sarah on when she stopped to ask why I was staying behind. Standing there, I tried to decide whether to just call it a day and go to bed... or stay outside and think for a bit like Sarah had told me to.

_Think for myself? That's new!_ Sarah had controlled the steering wheel for the past decade, or at least had one hand on it. I could make a decision myself, that's for sure; but actually feeling confident about it? Nope. That was Sarah's magic.

In the end, I decided not to. How could I? I was surrounded by death, violence, and destruction. How could anyone think about anything even remotely innocent here? Only an idiot would do that. At least it explained my behavior earlier. Yeah, I'd decide on this eventually. There wasn't any room for that here. Knowing those blue bastards had held out this long and fought so hard, I just knew that this battle was some sort of turning point. Things were going to get their worst soon, and I had to focus on surviving.

I walked back into the hotel, steady and sure. There wasn't going to be more bullshit like that. I was in my fighting mode now.

X 12th Battalion HQ, Day Two of Greyfield Strikes. X

The 12th Battalion's headquarters was working at a slightly easier pace. With the fighting over the resort island finished, the two hundred prisoners they'd taken were being processed and the island was being thoroughly checked for hold outs. The enemy wasn't reacting to their victory, and all there was to do was wait for something to conclude or something new to begin. Inside the freezer, Captain Brenner was feeling optimistic, though he still remained cautious. There was still a lot of work to do. But for now, things were looking good.

"An expertly executed operation, Captain," Brenner's guest said from the other side of the table, which held a map of the archipelago. He had been escorted in just as the day began.

"Thank you, General Walraven. It would not have been possible without the efforts of your own men. I'm sorry for the losses you suffered." Brenner could see through the brigadier-general's pale face and thin frame that he was clearly disturbed by the losses he had incurred. But when the general spoke, he sounded optimistic.

"They knew what they were getting into. We accomplished the mission, and that's what is important." He smiled weakly.

"They weren't too severe, I hope?" Brenner hadn't heard an official casualty figure yet. If this operation was to succeed, his battalion would likely need help.

"We lost 135 men taking this island and the center one and several dozen more injured, plus 500 men who had gone missing on the resort island." Buried under rubble, blown to bits, or burned beyond recognition, many of those men would likely stay missing forever. Brenner had ordered the carpet bombing with a heavy heart, and had almost been glad when one of the bombers turned back with engine trouble.

"I'm sorry—" Brenner began, but Walraven cut him off.

"You did what you had to, Captain. I'm sure those men wouldn't have wanted to risk the entire operation over their safety. We will still remember them, though." Brenner could only nod. For a soldier, the prospect of going home, even in a box, was what they always wanted. Few of the paratroopers would, though.

"There are still some intact remains scattered throughout the island. We'll hand them over to you for burial."

"Thank you Captain. In this world, just to have that is a blessing." Walraven paused, and when he spoke next, he didn't meet Brenner's eyes. "I'm curious to as to how you took so many prisoners." Brenner knew the NRA held a certain disregard towards its enemy, so he didn't comment. _Guess the Battalion should maintain its own holding facilities…_

"We have some prisoners we captured at Port Greyfield, mainly from the Lazurian Navy and Naval Infantry. One of the officers pleaded to be allowed to talk to the forces occupying the island, and said he could convince them to step down. He said he didn't to see any more of them die pointlessly. He told them we treat our prisoners with dignity and respect, and they believed him. I only wish I thought of it sooner." Brenner didn't add that the officer in question had a son and a nephew in the battalion. _Did they make it? It would be of some consolation to the colonel if they did. _Walraven absorbed the information and nodded in agreement.

"A Lazurian unit hasn't surrendered in several months, let alone Naval Infantry. It was quite an accomplishment, Captain, the same thing I'm sure your father would've done." Brenner could only give a slightly delayed nod. "It is just north of here, isn't it?" Walraven asked.

"Yes," Brenner acknowledged. "Is it the NRA's final goal?"

"Indeed, it is," General Walraven nodded. "I don't blame you for not wanting to see it, Captain." Walraven had seen right through Brenner's choice of words. "After so many years and all the things I've seen, I don't fancy going back, either."

"You were a survivor of the battle?" Brenner looked up, surprised.

"Yes. I was a lieutenant-colonel in one of the airborne divisions your father commanded. It was my division, in fact." Walraven's smile became ironically cheerful. "Operation Bridgehead 23." The Bridgehead operations had been very unsuccessful attempts to duplicate the successes of Lazurian Air Rifle units throughout the war in creating breakouts in Lazurian lines for Rubinelle forces to use. The final one had been no exception. "I escaped and fought the rest of the battle together with the 3rd Army before I got taken prisoner in the end."

"You were extremely lucky then," Brenner commented.

"Indeed I was, Captain," Walraven nodded, "but a pair of old men can reminisce in peace when the war's over and we're unemployed." With new energy, Brigadier-General Walraven sat up and spun the map around towards him. "Better to plan ahead, 'cause things are going to get lively when the fleet shows up."

"You know the admiral leading the fleet? I'm afraid I have not been here long enough to learn about the famous NRA commanders."

"Most of them didn't live long enough for you to get to know them," Walraven nodded in understanding. "I don't know the man personally; my division fought in the same area as the 2nd NRA Fleet, but I've heard a lot about him. He was infamous even before the meteors—very aggressive defending Rubinelle interests. When the war broke out, there was no doubt he'd sweep the enemy from the seas. He did just that before Lazuria's surprise comeback, and he's held them back since then."

"You think he'll remove most of the enemy presence here?" Brenner asked. Walraven laughed.

"Have you ever seen the _Hellhound_ in person, Captain?" Walraven asked, referring to Admiral Hamilton's flagship. When Brenner shook his head, Walraven continued. "I've seen it docked in the Capital a few times. It's massive, Captain. It has nine turrets and twenty-seven guns, with each gun having at least a caliber of 15 inches—and I haven't told you yet just how many AAA guns it has. It's a marvel of engineering that combines the firepower of a small nuke and the mobility of a ship—that's what the _Hellhound_ is." For a ground soldier, Walraven spoke highly of this particular ship.

"Sounds like the new Lazurian battleships," Brenner commented. Walraven shook his head.

"The new ones you mean? The difference is that they have a two-gun turret stacked on each of their three-gun turrets. The _Hellhound_ has three three-gun turrets stacked together and they somehow work together. Like I said, it's an engineering marvel."

"And Lazuria figured it out? We fought them once a year ago, and their weapons weren't so advanced."

"Yes, we had a few remnants get deep into the interior before we crushed them all," Walraven admitted. "We're not sure where they're getting their weapons from, Captain, but we can't stop to think about it. We should just focus on defeating them. They can have all the tanks they want but it won't matter if we defeat the men meant to operate them. After all, you can't have a military without people to operate it." Brenner nodded in agreement. "We got off track again. But yes, given his previous battle record, I'm sure Hamilton will sink most of the enemy fleet and wipe out most of the ground forces."

"And that will give us a chance." Brenner tried to look at the map as if the ships and concentrations of enemy troops weren't there. "Are your men fit to fight again?" Brenner asked.

"I still got six battalions, Captain, but I'm not sure how effective we'll be. We're completely out of heavy and anti-tank weapons, and that is a mechanized force over there." Walraven was painfully honest.

"I think we can provide a solution to that," Brenner reassured him. "We have more tanks than infantry to escort them. I can attach two tank companies to your infantry forces."

"That will work." Walraven returned to the map. "They want a security detail at the new HQ, so two cruisers will be coming to pick up one of my battalions." Next, he motioned to the island packed with artillery. "I'll send two battalions to clear and hold this island after the Navy levels it. That means I'll have about 1,200 men—at least three battalions' worth of men—to land on the main island. I guess the beach south of their HQ is out of the question?"

"Absolutely." Brenner didn't want to think of the risks. "I'd prefer to land at the far side of the island, work our way past the ports and reach the enemy HQ. Inflicting maximum casualties is our goal. I'm thinking we could land each of our forces on one of the strips of land, meet up at the port, and advance on the HQ together." Walraven traced his finger along the suggested path, and nodded.

"Sounds smart, Captain. But let's keep it theoretical for now. We can't really do anything until the fleet gets here. Until then, it's best if we hold our positions." Brenner nodded in agreement as well.

"Do you think they'll attempt to recapture the islands?" Brenner asked for Walraven's opinion. "Their naval strength is greater than the NRA and my own, and yet they haven't responded to any of our actions." Walraven took a few moments to think.

"We hit them before they were organized. The enemy regiments were still unpacking crates when my men landed." _And that gave them a chance. People can't fight back effectively when they're holding box cutters and crowbars._ He continued. "Those ships were with the initial force, and they can definitely fight. You want my experienced opinion, Captain? They're biding their time, waiting to see if we bring anything else to the table. We surprised them once, and they don't want it to happen again." Brenner listened to the older officer, nodding all the while.

"I'll keep my anti-air forces on constant alert, just in case. We have the vehicles hidden in the underground parking garages, and the craters on the island can serve as bomb shelters. I'm fairly certain we can pull this off."

"Oh, I have no doubt that we can, Captain." Walraven stood up, sensing that the meeting was coming to a close. "It's our only option, after all."

XX Author's Note XX

A notice to all of my readers: With this chapter posted, the story will enter another hiatus. My college classes start in just a few days, and I don't want to endanger myself by focusing more on this, so there likely won't be any new chapters for a while. However, my beta reader and I have decided to go back and further improve the earlier chapters in the meantime. Nothing will be ret-conned, but a few more details and characterization will be added to make things a lot less 'bumpy' than they are. Hopefully, once I get into the habit of college life, I can get back to writing regular chapters. But until then, I'll post the next chapter for my other story and that'll be the last update for a while. I hope you all will stay with me throughout the hiatus.


	53. Greyfield Strikes III

XX A/N XX

The hiatus is over, and I'm back to working on this story. The revisions to the previous chapters are still ongoing though. 1-6 have been redone, and 7-9 are to follow in a day or two.

X Aboard the RNS _Toland__, Day Three of Greyfield Strikes._X

The naval force that had attacked the enemy, designated as Task Force 14, was currently lead by the skipper of the cruiser _Toland__, who also happened to be the_ most senior surviving officer present. While this was standard policy, it was also starting to become a handicap. The _Toland_'s skipper, Navy Commander Elliot Jameson, did not fit into his post well; he had fallen on bad terms with Admiral Hamilton in the past year, and he dreaded having to report to the intimidating man once he arrived. His exact orders were, in _verbatim_: "Prevent the enemy from reinforcing their gains or subverting our own". Jameson had interpreted this as to circle through the archipelago and place his ships between the enemy and the ground forces already present, though he had to contact any of them yet.

Down in each ship's Combat Information Center, all weapons officers and naval system operators were monitoring the Lazurian naval threat with fear; considering its firepower, it could wipe them out at any moment. As it was the case, different types of combat illustrated the strengths and weaknesses of each nation's forces. On land, Lazurian weapons and vehicles weren't as advanced as their Rubinelle counterparts, but they were far more plentiful, and they often pressed their advantage in numbers to the limit. In the air, Lazurian aircraft were faster and more maneuverable, in contrast with the more superior Rubinelle sensors and radar systems. On the sea, it was technology versus mass firepower.

Rubinelle ships had highly advanced radar systems—the Navy called it the Aegis System—that allowed them to control the skies and track enemy threats accurately. On the other hand, Lazurian ships relied on raw firepower, using anti-ship missiles that were usually twice as powerful as Rubinelle ones. To combat Rubinelle's advanced radar systems, Lazurian ships could fire off _dozens_ of missiles at once; a group of ships could easily overwhelm the sensors Rubinelle was so proud off. Considering that the Lazurian ships outnumbered theirs by a ratio of three to one, being swarmed by missiles was a very real possibility to the men and women on all five cruisers—especially when both forces sat just within each other's engagement ranges.

The Lazurian naval force's main strength was in the cruisers it had. Two of them were Kara-class vessels: potent and dedicated anti-air warships. The other twelve cruisers were of the Slava class: fearsome surface combatants that could launch over a dozen anti-ship missiles at once. They were just out of range of the main guns of the Lazurian Borodino-class battleship though, and it would have to sail out and around before it could fire on them—but that was the least of their concerns. As far as everyone in the task force was concerned, the greatest threat in the enemy force was the Lazurian Kuznetsov-class carrier. Aside from the forty planes and helicopters it carried, Lazurian carriers were outfitted with a large number of anti-air missiles, as well as surface-to-surface missiles that were a hellish union of an anti-ship missile and a ballistic missile that could severely damage or sink even a heavily armored battleship.

It was certainly a force to be wary of. But, to everyone's surprise, it had been quiet so far. There had been some increased radio traffic when the southernmost island fell, but otherwise the enemy fleet seemed content to stay locked up alongside ground based anti-air units. What were they doing? What were they thinking about? Finding answers to these questions kept the task force busy for quite some time.

It was about sixteen hours after the southern island fell when the enemy finally made a move. Almost simultaneously, all five cruisers were locked onto by enemy weapons radars. Klaxons rang and the already-tense seamen were at complete combat readiness within a mere minute. Although no missiles had been fired yet, the five cruisers immediately locked onto the enemy ships, particularly the cruisers. Anti-missile teams were ready at their control panels, anticipating a swarm of missiles on their radar panels. A few tense minutes passed before the task force commander finally got on the shared com link.

"All ships hold, this may be a test." Down in his ship's CIC, Jameson watched the displays intently, a few beads of sweat running down his forehead. Ships made radar locks on each other during peacetime as a means of intimidation; he prayed that this was a similar occurrence. He'd been a smart and intelligent commander before the war, but after losing his parents and sisters to sickness after the meteors, his mental state had reached the breaking point. It had not been enough to get him removed from his post—an officer being a very valuable resource—but it was affecting his performance. Just several months ago, he'd allowed Lazurian planes to pierce an air defense screen and sink an entire MEU before they even left their assault ships. He wanted very much for that not to happen again.

That was why he nearly had a heart attack when the radar picked up planes being launched from both the carrier and the air fields constructed on the island and heading to the east. They had to be going for the ground forces—it was the only logical thing they would do. In panic, he ordered two of his cruisers to circle around south of the center island and prepare to intercept any possible air strike, while at the same time he ordered a message be sent to the ground forces warning them about the air raid.

It would be the last order he issued, and one that wouldn't be accomplished.

The enemy aircraft, identified as four flights of fighter-interceptors, a regiment of attack planes, and a single bomber, had been holding their position above the island while the ships maintained radar lock on the Rubinelle ships. But, as soon as a pair of Rubinelle cruisers shifted their positions, all hell broke loose. The vast Lazurian armada unleashed a rain of missiles against the three cruisers still west of the island, while nearly a dozen attack planes rushed in to attack the two cruisers on the east side. The Rubinelle ships immediately responded with as many anti-ship and anti-air weapons as they could fire, and the air was suddenly filled with missiles.

What followed was a quick but violent death for the Rubinelle naval task force.

The cruisers in the west managed to intercept nearly a dozen missiles, but twice that number came in behind them. Each cruiser was struck at least twice and suffered catastrophic damage before sinking with all hands, but not before firing off at least three dozen missiles at their attackers. Most of the anti-ship missiles were intercepted by the Lazurian Navy's defenses, but a few got through, including a pair that destroyed a Slava's gun turrets and one that completely immobilized another Slava. A couple of a dozen anti-air missiles launched by the three Rubinelle cruisers successfully destroyed four Lazurian fighters circling above the port, but it left the attack squadrons largely intact, ready for their next move.

On the east side of the island, the two cruisers had managed to down four attacking SU-25s at long range with their missiles, and another plus a Sturmovik with their CIWS (Close-In Weapons Systems). However, an anti-ship missile launched from a Sukhoi damaged one of the cruisers' anti-air batteries, allowing a daring Sturmovik to close the distance and drop a 500 lb. bomb directly on the cruiser. Engulfed by massive explosions, the cruiser went down with all hands.

Unassisted, the last cruiser was soon overwhelmed and sunk, but not without shooting down two more Sturmoviks. After no less than two minutes, all that remained of Task Force 14 were debris and oil slicks on the surface. Escorted by Navy and Air Force fighters, almost two dozen Lazurian attack craft headed south to the now open ground forces on both islands.

X James, Day Three of Greyfield Strikes. X

I'd never thought being a soldier could be such a confusing career. You received orders and executed them to the best of your ability—and it was all for the better of your country and your countrymen. At least, that's how it was supposed to be. I never doubted the former, but I was starting to doubt the latter now. There wasn't anyone meant to be your friend more than your brothers-in-arms, but what I was seeing was tearing that assumption to shreds.

Along with the other companies, we formed a sort of a boundary line that cut the island in half. On the north end you had Lazurians burying their casualties, and Rubinelle soldiers doing the same on the south. Both sides sent hostile glances across the line, and it was pretty obvious that both sides would go through us to get to the other if they really wanted. This wasn't peace keeping; it was preventing wholesale murder.

I couldn't help but think back to the Battle of Darrett that had ended the last war. One of the most well-known stories from that battle was the ceasefire held on the 64th day, when both sides buried their dead side by side without firing a single bullet for 24 hours. Here, you could sense the hostility in the air. Had the war dragged on people's minds that much? _It's supposed to be professional courtesy._

At least, this was the last thing we had to do on the island. Every man and woman in the Battalion had been drafted to help clear the rubble by hand yesterday. All of it had been moved to the north and west beaches, and most of the loose dirt from the dozens of craters that littered the landscape had been carried and piled over it all. Marine officers supervised the activity to ensure it was built to stall an amphibious landing. We weren't using any of the destroyed structures yet, but at least we could move throughout the island easily now. Once the burials were done, all that would be left for us to do was hurry up and wait. The NRA reinforcements would arrive soon enough, and when they did, we'd take the other two islands. After that, Lazuria. Just thinking about it was surprising, and it still felt like we were newcomers to this war. And yet, just one huge battle had opened up the possibility of ending the war...

I snapped back to the job at hand before my mind could wander far away. There were some of our men who were standing among the prisoners while they buried their dead, and then there were those of us who were stationed on the border that split the island in two. It was simply a matter of patience; we couldn't tell either side to hurry up and bury their dead, after all. And so, I stood and waited as the hours passed. The dead were buried with as much ceremony either side could muster in this environment. The Lazurians had requested their rifles that we'd seized to use as grave markers, and we obliged after removing the ammunition and firing pins from each one. On the other hand, the NRA casualties didn't have any sort of marker aside from a dirt mound.

As more bodies were buried, several of the prisoners were sent back to their holding area. I'd heard there were plans to move them to the main island, or perhaps further south—it was only rumors at this point. Several soldiers from the 49th also departed as their workload began to decrease. Most of them were actually staying here on the island with us, and so they headed back to their own encampment. The whole thing could have been over with a few minutes when the battle suddenly re-ignited itself.

A loud siren began to wail across the island: it was an air raid warning. It had been a real threat in a battle area this small, so we'd taken early warning and defense precautions and it was paying off. Everyone—we, the NRA troops, and the Lazurian POWs—froze from whatever they were doing and started to look up. The first thing we saw weren't planes, but anti-air missiles from our own batteries streaking up into the air and heading north. That meant the enemy couldn't be that far.

"Damn," I muttered and turned to look at the members of my squad who were spread out beside me. I was going to call out to them to form up on me and hope the message was passed down, but my voice was drowned out by the roar of aircraft engines. Above me, a Lazurian SU-25 suddenly appeared, flying so low to the ground that the whiplash it created nearly knocked me down. A few seconds too late, shells from an anti-air tank streaked the sky where it had been. More attack planes followed with fighters in tow, and then the sky was quickly engulfed by so many planes and missiles it was hard to tell which side they belonged to. It was very easy to recognize the explosions that shook the ground below us as our positions on the island were bombed. The realization that we'd come under sudden attack sunk in, and everyone scattered to find cover. Despite our guys being out here, the prisoners joined in the scramble.

"Damn it." There wasn't time to worry about the prisoners, and it was pointless anyway: anyone who stayed in the open would be cut down or blown up. Ignoring the crowd, I ran and slid into the first empty crater I could find in a nearby road and hunkered down. The Lazurian planes soared above between bursts of AA fire and missile launches, but none seemed intent on strafing anything in this field. Were they attacking specific targets, or were they trying to spare their people because they knew of their surrender?

I scooted back and lifted my rifle when someone, a Lazurian prisoner judging by the clothes, slid in across from me, no doubt trying to avoid becoming a friendly fire statistic. "Don't move," I warned. And then, to my horror, she turned to face me.

"Not fun much, no?" Lada asked, and her eyes curious for my reaction despite the severity of the situation. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear explosions from where the Lazurian planes were no doubt attacking our own men. And here I was stuck in a crater with... this person.

_Why does she bother me so much?_ I kept my rifle pointed. "Just stay where you are," I said, feeling uneasy now.

"Those planes must mean the _Kankin _is part of the fleet," she mused, staring up at the passing planes. Did that count as intel? I repeated the name in my head a few times to memorize it. "I have a friend who has flown with them. They are proud flyers—" she said something in her native language before switching back to English, "—to work with."

"So, how many of them are here?" I asked. She seemed airy enough that I could probably get something out of her. She lowered her head and looked right at me, a slightly amused look at her face. Then again, this was good news for her country, wasn't it?

"That is a State secret," she said, her expression never breaking. "I can't tell you, but I'll take my pants off if it makes you feel better." I stared, unsure how to answer that.

_Where the hell do they find these people? Are they suffering a manpower shortage or something?_This had to be some attempt at unbalancing me. "I'll pass." I tried to make it sound bored. While I kept my eyes and the rifle barrel pointed ahead, my ears were open to the battle raging in the skies. There were still the roar of jet engines and propellers, and the stutter of anti-air cannons firing from the vehicles they were mounted on. Was this a pre-emptive strike? Was a follow-up attack coming? Or was this just an attempt to knock us down and hope we fled? If that were the case, they were in for a rude awakening. There was a ground shaking crash somewhere nearby that I assumed had been a plane. _Good. The less of them, the better._

Someone else fell in the hole about that time, their foot snagging against my helmet and causing them to hit the dirt face first—another Lazurian prisoner. "Fuck," he muttered through a mouthful of dirt and pushed himself up. His eyes hardened when he saw me. He was bearded and dirty, so I assumed he was from our most recent batch of prisoners.

"Get over there, keep your hands where I can see them, and don't move," I warned. Scowling, he complied. "You know anything about that up there?" I demanded. "Seems pretty reckless to attack an island with your own people on it." The Lazurian Naval Infantryman just shrugged.

"They're getting the most valuable targets—you Rubes make good tanks, but your infantry is so weak they aren't worth the bombs." He eyed my rifle with contempt, as if it was a toy. Well, if they intended to get our tanks, they were out of luck; we had them hidden. "In my grandfather's day," he went on, "they wouldn't even care if we were here. Surrender is the ultimate disgrace."

For the first time, he seemed to notice Lada. She noticed as well and said something that I assumed was a greeting in her native language. I saw his eyes narrow and remembered that her people were some sort of oddity in Lazurian society. Given what I'd seen of her behavior, I had a faint idea why, but it made me uncomfortable nevertheless. I was sitting outnumbered in a foxhole while a battle raged above—and during a burial.

_Bad timing if I ever saw it._

"So, which unit were you from?" Lada struck up a conversation with her fellow countryman. "I was in the air assault battalion of the 186th Brigade."

"192nd," he answered, raising an eyebrow. "When we heard your landing had failed, we didn't think we'd ever see you again."

"They caught us at a bad moment," Lada shrugged, "but we've been treated fairly. The 12th Battalion certainly lives up to the rumors."

"Oh, you've heard of us?" I asked, momentarily forgetting we were hiding from an air battle. "Where?"

"The survivors of the desert offensive," the male prisoner answered. "When we launched both flanking maneuvers we thought the enemy had no reserves to spare. But there you were, beating us back both times." He eyed me. "We've heard many things about you people without being able to tell what is true or not. You clearly aren't a regular tank battalion."

"No." I wasn't missing a good propaganda opportunity. "We're much more powerful than that."

"Of course." Both Lazurians eyed me critically—the male one did, anyway. The ground shook as another plane hit the ground somewhere close by, causing little bits of dirt to fall all over us. I wished those planes would've left already.

For a wonder, they did just then. The roar of jet engines and propellers faded, leaving the anti-air guns to roar for a moment before going silent. Fires crackled in several different directions. Silence took over the battlefield for three tense minutes. No one was willing to move in case the planes came back. After five more minutes, I started to figure it was safe.

"It's over," Lada stated with certainty and stood up. The other Naval Infantryman nodded and rose as well.

"Stay where you are," I growled at the two of them as I rose. Though it was no easy task, I eased my way backwards out of the hole without taking my eyes off either of them. Back on solid ground, I ignored my impulse to look around and kept my rifle pointed at them. "All right, come on out."

"Hmph." The other Naval Infantryman offered Lada a boost, which she firmly turned down as she held her nose up at and climbed up the side by herself, using his shoulders as a boosting point. Cursing, he came up after her so they were both back on firm ground again. They started stretching their arms and legs.

"Sit." When they followed, I began to look around me."Damn." People from all three groups were climbing out of their holes, but I barely noticed them next to all the carnage. Smoke plumes were rising from all around the island and out at sea. I turned towards the southern side of the island where the helicopters were. I swore out loud when I saw black smoke rising from that direction. The Lazurian Naval Infantryman laughed when he saw my reaction. "Not so fun to be on the receiving end for a change?"

"Shut up," I snarled. I hoped they missed the helicopters; it was pretty obvious our ships had been hit already, so our ability to deploy was effectively gone if they got the helicopter too. If that was gone, we couldn't evacuate the island; that meant we were as good as dead. I gritted my teeth at the realization.

"Sergeant!" I turned and saw a few of my squad members running towards me. They stopped in front of me, visibly shaking. Unless I was mistaken, one of them had ruined a pair of pants. I could understand that; it happened a lot of times during an air raid. They were all alive, and that's what counts. "Take charge of the prisoners," Karst ordered the others before turning to me. "You see either of the lieutenants, Sergeant?"

"No." I shook my head. "I'll go look. Watch them." I motioned to the two Lazurian Naval Infantrymen.

"You got it, Sarge," he nodded. I quickly set out looking for Anderson and Anson. They'd both been on the temporary HQ, and they had to be close by. Hopefully, they were okay. My eyes ran through the mass of shell-shocked people coming out of cover, trying to find Anderson's distinctive size. I couldn't; it was complete chaos out here. I actually had to stop and stare as everyone tried to pull their own selves together. Some of the 12th Battalion soldiers were too dazed and confused to move, as were some of the prisoners who had to be carried from wherever they'd hidden. Someone from the NRA had apparently taken the distraction as a chance for payback and had to be pulled off from a bleeding Lazurian prisoner. While all this was happening, smoke rose from several different points across the island.

_What would happen now?_Our victory had been completely turned against us. Even if we got reorganized here, we'd lost a lot of our mobility. We were the weak and isolated prey now...

X 12th Battalion HQ, Day Three of Greyfield Strikes. X

Brenner stood imposingly in one of the café windows. He gritted his teeth as he observed nearly a dozen black plumes of smoke rising in the distance. "Damn it," he muttered, "I need a sit rep!" He turned back to the rest of the HQ staff. "Is Lin okay?" She'd gone to the forward island to observe the progress and interrogate some of the prisoners.

"I have Wolf Pack-Five on the line, sir. She's all right!" A radio operator reported. "She's on the other end of the line." He offered Brenner the headset.

"Lin?" Brenner spoke into the mouth piece.

"Captain," her voice as cool as ever, Lin answered, "we came under attack by enemy aircraft. They attacked our anti-aircraft vehicles and the ships. We've lost some AA capacity over here, but I count at least four enemy planes destroyed. I'm currently unaware of the casualties our own forces have sustained." Brenner knew they'd need a few minutes to get a proper count.

"What do you make of this, Lin?"

"Another attack is sure to follow," Lin answered, "and they want to tilt the balance of power back in their direction before the NRA reinforcements arrive. Our options are to retreat and return with those reinforcements, or to try and hold out against their fleet and their landing force that I believe will soon follow. I predict a fifteen per cent chance of success on the latter."

"Damn," Brenner muttered. The battle was deteriorating so quickly... "Okay, stay where you are and try to get the casualty figures. I'll contact the NRA and Greyfield." Brenner handed the radioman back his headset.

"Sir, we've lost all contact with the center island," another operator reported. That would've been the NRA HQ and the airborne battalion stationed there to protect it. Was it already in the enemy's hands, or were communications down?

"Okay," Brenner acknowledged. "Someone get me a direct channel to the Capital." Will showed up at that time, a worried look on his face.

"Captain, what are you going to do?"

"We'll contact Greyfield to let him know of the situation and explain to him—"

"That won't be necessary, Captain." Brenner turned and saw General Walraven walk into the HQ, escorted by his security detail. "He already contacted me." Brenner hid his disgust at Greyfield's apparent lack of consideration and nodded for the man to continue. "He's ordered us to keep all our forces where they are and hold back the enemy until Hamilton arrives—under the penalty of death."

"What?" Brenner exploded, making every soldier in the 12th Battalion within earshot jump. He was normally a nice man, but he could get angry, too. And when he did, it was never pretty. "This is our battle! What does that idiot think he's doing? He has no idea what is happening here! Our men could get killed for nothing!" Although Brenner's words struck a chord among Walraven's men, the general's mouth twisted at the outburst. One of his men suddenly looked fearful.

"Please sir, we're just the messengers." In spite of his rank, the enlisted soldier started pleading directly to Brenner. "Please do what he says, sir! I have a wife and kids!" His outburst shocked everyone gathered, and Walraven had to put a hand on the enlisted man's shoulder to calm him down.

"Wait, the penalty of death applies to you all, too?" Will sounded in panic.

"I think it applies to all of us, Will," Brenner admitted, and Walraven nodded. "There's no choice. The Admiral clearly doesn't like me very much."

"Commanders always get jumpy during crucial moments," Walraven remarked, as if trying to rationalize Greyfield's actions. Will spoke up.

"This is my fault, Captain. I was disrespectful to the Admiral." Since everyone was looking at Will, they missed the look of surprise that passed over the faces of the NRA soldiers present.

"Don't blame yourself, Will." Brenner didn't even ask Will to explain. "Things can't be changed now. I'd rather risk my own neck, but I won't endanger the lives of my men. We'll follow his orders... No matter how crazy they are." The nods from the 12th Battalion soldiers present showed that they would follow him to the very end, and it was encouraging.

"Yes sir!" Will responded. When Brenner turned to face him, Walraven looked impressed.

"Well, Captain, you certainly don't quit, do you? Odds are we're going to have to hold out for at least a day."

"We may be able to do that." Brenner was clearly thinking. "I want a change in battle plans! Find out if our artillery forces suffered any casualties." While the radio room got itself busy, Brenner outlined his plan to Walraven. "Our rocket vehicles can fire to ranges over thirty miles away, although we normally don't because they lose accuracy after twenty. I know for a fact that a ship's main gun doesn't have that range. If we can protect them from an air attack, we can hold them off by using them."

"They know aerial reinforcements are coming in—they probably won't risk their fighters, which would mean they won't send attack craft without escorts," Walraven mused. "You may be on to something there, Captain."

"Sir, a complete casualty report." A messenger handed Brenner a tally sheet, which he took and read. As Lin had said, the enemy had knocked out two missile trucks and three anti-air tanks, but all the other armored vehicles had been spared because they were hidden, and that included the artillery. The damage to the Battalion's naval detachment was much more severe. Three gunboats had been sunk, the cruiser damaged, and the destroyer had taken two missile impacts and was struggling to stay afloat and put out the fire that had engulfed part of it. Thankfully, the Air Wing suffered no casualties.

The note also included details on the enemy. The attack had been carried out by a mix of SU-25s and Sturmoviks, with the latter making up a majority. Gaining the element of surprise, the 12th Battalion's patrolling fighters reported downing three enemy fighters providing escort and two attack planes. The surviving anti-air units reported downing between four and eight planes, with at least two crashing on the island. The ships also claimed to have shot down several planes. The enemy had paid dearly for their attack, even if it'd been successful.

"This isn't over yet," Brenner decided as he handed Walraven the report to look over. "Find out if the Lazurian Navy has begun to move," he ordered, "and get me all company commanders on the line!" While that was being done, Walraven approached Brenner.

"You have the full support of my division, Captain. Just say where you need us." Brenner nodded gratefully.

"This island only has one of my companies to defend it. If your men can dig in, it'll help us a lot, General."

"Okay then, Brenner. I'll have my men start preparing the defenses," Walraven promised. "You seem to have everything under control here, so I'll go supervise the efforts." With that, Walraven and his security detail left.

"Captain, we have reports that the Lazurian fleet is moving. We believe their intention is to bombard the island," an aid grimly reported.

"Damn," Brenner muttered. "Have we established links with the company commanders yet?"

"I got Coyote-Six on the horn," a radioman reported. Brenner took the receiver and outlined his new plan to his subordinate, the commander of Company C.

"The artillery?" The company commander sounded surprised. "Seems like a big risk, sir." Artillery was called the 'King of War' for good reason: its destruction was unrivaled by any other ground weapon. Any sensible officer guarded his like he would his first born, especially when he didn't have enough air power to back them up. "Those planes might come back, and our AA fire is going to be weak when they do. Seems too risky, Captain."

"We don't have a choice." Always the honest commander, Brenner informed the company commander of the 'no retreat' order. "It's the best option available to us." The other end was silent for a few moments.

"All right, Captain, I'll carry out the order immediately and pass it on to the other commanders. We'll call back once the artillery is deployed and ready." Brenner thanked him and handed the headset back. He then began issuing new orders.

"Get in contact with all our remaining ships! I want everything behind the island and out of the line of fire. Contact the Air Wing commander. I want all attack planes loaded with the best weapons we got. Have all four fighters maintain a CAP above the island after they rearm!" His orders were passed through the proper channels.

Brenner could only wait while his orders were implemented. Time seemed to crawl by, and each minute brought the question: 'Is the enemy in firing range yet?' He remained calm, standing firm in the middle of the room while radio traffic was exchanged. "Captain," another radio operator beckoned him, "Wolf Pack-Five is on the line." He offered his CO the headset.

"Excellent work on the casualty report," Brenner said once he had the receiver on his hands. "I want you to stay there and supervise our defenses for now. If the enemy tries to move their ships near the island, we'll drive them off with artillery."

"A risky move," Lin observed. "I assume we've been forbidden to retreat?" Lin might have been a seer in her past life; she always seemed to guess exactly what had or what was going to happen.

"Yes, that is correct," Brenner reluctantly admitted, "but we're not going down without a fight. Radio me once the artillery and surviving anti-air units are set up. We WILL hold that island, no matter how hard we have to fight for it."

"Understood. Wolf Pack-Five out." Brenner returned the receiver to the operator. As radio communications were being sent out left and right, he took a breather and collected his thoughts. The same thing had happened to his father's forces when they invaded these islands several years ago. Through a combination of his father's commanding skills, the bravery of the troops under his command, and sheer luck, Rubinelle had managed to pull through. Would everything he had be enough? Would history repeat itself? Brenner hoped it would.


	54. Greyfield Strikes IV

X Tim, Day Three of Greyfield Strikes. X

If your day starts with shit blowing up and you pissing yourself, then it's probably going to be a bad one. I'd just been lounging around the lobby after having woken up a few minutes ago when suddenly I heard a whole lot of shouting outside as the entire building shook. Then, something (I later found out it was an ammunition cache kept outside) went up and took out the side of the whole fucking hotel, flinging anyone inside into the walls.

"Arrggh. Fuck me!" I had the wind knocked out of my lungs, but I quickly recovered. I was lucky; some of the poor bastards who had been closer to the wall were scattered in chunks across the lobby. "Shit," I swore when I realized I could hear the roar of planes outside; must've been an attack. I tried to sit up and nearly passed out. It took me a minute to realize there was blood running down my face, but I was worried about other things.

_Sarah—where the hell is Sarah?_ Probably still in the room we'd been assigned. Shit, that explosion might've unsettled the building; we had to leave. Ignoring the rest of the chaos, I stumbled wearily towards the stairs to get back to our room. I was almost there when something latched on my leg. "What the—oh, fuck." I looked down to see some unlucky guy lying on the ground, his face bloodied and his leg twisted in a way that definitely wasn't normal.

_What the hell am I supposed to do?_ I'd never been in a situation like this. Sarah was still upstairs, and she was definitely awake by now. But, I'd already seen this guy, and what kind of person would leave them behind? _Waylon would—and I'm not that asshole._ That made up my mind. "All right, I got you." I wasn't a bad guy as long as people didn't piss me off. Besides, this guy was probably part of the helicopter maintenance crews. Sarah was an adult; she'd know how to get the hell out of dodge.

The guy shrieked as soon as I hauled him up, and then went limp. It took me a minute to realize he must've passed out from pain. "Christ," I muttered, picking him up so his bent leg wasn't touching the ground and I started carrying him towards the entrance. It was chaos in here, but everyone was still helping the wounded get up and out of the building. Sure, there were planes out there, but a plane could miss you. Several tons of falling concrete sure as hell wouldn't.

"Tim!" I was just in the doorway when Sarah caught up with me, just like I'd expected. She noticed what I was doing and gave me a hand. "Something fucked up?"

"Yeah," I nodded as we stepped outside along with a few other people. A Lazurian attack plane soared by, its underside filled with weapons in full view. "Something really fucked up." I looked around, unsure what the hell we were supposed to do. Everyone was running in different directions, trying to get somewhere safe. Were we supposed to do the same? "C'mon," I motioned to Sarah, still dragging our unfortunate new friend along.

"Goddamn, they caught us good." I watched the missiles and bullets streaking through the air, but I was smart enough not to stop and gawk like some people were doing. It was every man on his own now. We'd have to get reorganized once things got quiet again—but only after we survived this shit.

"Buildings are too dangerous!" Sarah had to yell to be heard. There were a few stores and other places across the street, and a lot of people seemed to be running into them. Others were running out into the fields surrounding the road and hiding in craters. A few insane idiots even took cover back inside the hotel. Of all those options, I liked the second best, so I pointed that way and Sarah quickly got the message.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. _I was expecting us to get strafed, or for an explosion to happen right next to us. Those planes were flying way too goddamn low, enough for the whiplash they were creating to nearly knock us over. Oddly enough, they didn't seem to fire or drop a bomb very often. I hoped they were saving their ammo for better targets than little old us.

As we got into the field, we tried to think of a good place to hide. A lot of the craters were pretty wide but not particularly deep, something that didn't look so safe when seen close up. But, instead of jumping into the nearest one and hoping it would do, Sarah reached over with her free hand and punched me on the shoulder to get my attention. She pointed towards the middle of the field, more specifically a Lazurian plane that had crashed there. Everything within a few yards of it was charred black and some spots were on fire. Whoever had been flying it must've tried to set her down, because there was a giant rut behind it. Actually, it looked pretty deep...

"I see it!" I called back. "Good call!" The way the front was twisted, the pilot couldn't have survived, and all the ordnance and fuel had to have gone up when it hit the ground. The fumes wouldn't be a problem as long as we kept some distance, and obviously they wouldn't attack right next to one of their own downed planes. That rut was our best bet, so we took it. Funny enough, my head started going into insane full gear when we were making our way towards the pit. Running over open ground with the risk of getting shot definitely wasn't something that had ever been in the job description. Caring for someone who was wounded wasn't either. But, it was bad kind of funny that you stop caring about shit like that when the only thing in your ears was the sound of low-flying planes with guns that could blow you to bits. This wasn't that feeling of survival where you had to be more aggressive; this was running away.

We slid into the giant rut, trying and failing to keep the injured soldier's leg from hitting the ground. It was actually a good thing he was out, 'cause otherwise it definitely would've hurt like hell. We set him down and climbed back up to get a look around. There were still a few people darting around, and doing a full three-sixty I could count at least seven fires around the island. There was a big-ass one near the hotel we'd been in just a few minutes ago, the same one where our helicopter was parked right next to.

"Fuck," I muttered, but those could hopefully be replaced. I slid back down to wait things out. The crowded sky finally seemed to be clearing up, but until told otherwise I wasn't coming out. After getting her own view of the destruction, Sarah moved over and squatted in front of me.

"Are you okay?" Sarah asked, leaning forward to look at me. Now that I wasn't moving, I realized just how much _everything _fucking hurt and that I was out of breath. I also realized I'd pissed my pants. I'd gone outside for a routine early morning piss, but the explosion ruined it. "You're bleeding, too." That was either from the debris or a rough landing.

"I'll deal with it," I muttered, wiping my face with my sleeve. I flinched a little when it came back covered with more blood than I expected. "No point in worrying now." There was an explosion nearby, and hopefully one of those blue fucks crashed. "That guy probably has it worse." I jerked a thumb at the unconscious soldier.

"I'm surprised," Sarah admitted, her voice cutting through the chaos. "I figured you'd come running for me." She wasn't offended, just honestly surprised.

"I was. He grabbed my leg, though—couldn't just leave him," I explained, and Sarah nodded. Irritated and in pain, I decided to vent my frustrations. "This whole island has been a pain. This whole mission has been a clusterfuck, now that I think about it. God knows what we're supposed to do after this." Sarah's look told me she had no idea either. This was without a doubt the farthest we'd been stranded up the creek without a paddle. Sarah had been right: this was some serious shit here, stuff that made everything before look like child's play. No one was holding back anything. It was all in or nothing, with _our _lives as the betting chips. If this wasn't the end, it would only get worse. And that meant we had to be damn careful if we intended to have to worry about anything ever again.

X 12th Battalion HQ, Day Four of Greyfield Strikes. X

Captain Brenner had been working for almost a day now, taking in information and directing operations as necessary in an outwardly calm demeanor. Inside, he was stressed—and neither the coffee nor the three-hour nap he had didn't help one bit. There was no room for error here; it was all or nothing. If those ships managed to open fire on the island, Rubinelle could say goodbye to these islands and Brenner could say goodbye to the Battalion he'd commanded for over a year through Hell itself.

So far, their progress had been surprisingly well. The Battalion's artillery and rocket vehicles on the island had been quickly formed into a provisional battery to hold off the enemy fleet. At first, the battleship and cruisers sailed straight for the island, apparently sure nothing would oppose them, or at least anything they could take out. The artillery refuted that assumption, and a rocket barrage launched within a few seconds had sunk two cruisers and damaged another.

It was the first and biggest success they had. After that, the ships retreated outside the range of accurate rocket fire and hadn't moved since. Intending to neutralize the 12th's artillery, some small raiding parties had been sent in by boat. Unfortunately for those parties, they landed on a beach on the western side of the island, where a battalion of the 49th Division and a combined-arms company of the 12th Battalion held the heights overlooking the beach. After suffering an intensive artillery bombardment, and having no armor to speak of, the Lazurians were soon driven back into the sea.

Then, a few hours after the landings were repulsed, the Lazurians sent in a squadron of Su-25s to try and knock out the artillery of the Battalion, and they were supported by a flight of MiG-29 interceptors flying escort. This time, even though they hadn't expected the enemy to further risk their air power, the Battalion was prepared. Utilizing the terrain offered by the rubble, Lin ordered all remaining anti-air vehicles to take cover and turn off their search radars, turning these on only when the enemy was well within their range. The tactic worked. Caught between multiple radar screens, six attack planes and one of the fighters were shot down within seconds. When the rest tried to turn around and flee, Lin ordered the four fighters of the Battalion's Air Wing, who were conducting a combat patrol at the east and the west in two-plane elements, to swing around and close their rear. Taking the enemy by surprise, the 12th Battalion fighters managed to shoot down three attack planes and one MiG before the survivors managed to escape.

Then, at the same time, two Lazurian cruisers circled around the archipelago to bombard the island the Battalion HQ was on, using speed and evasive maneuvers to dodge the sparse artillery presence on the island. For Navy people, they were surprisingly knowledgeable on how to outsmart the Rubinelle Army's best gunners. Fortunately, two Battalion gunboats that had been hastily repaired came at their rear and sunk one of the cruisers, prompting the other to retreat, but not without inflicting casualties among the troops defending the island.

Nothing had happened since then. It was a tense silence that could deteriorate into all-out fighting at any moment. The reinforcements from the NRA were still over half a day away. Brenner couldn't just assume the enemy would let this impasse continue and leave them while they were down. Action was needed on his side, but he had no aces to play.

"It's almost like we're at a stalemate again," General Walraven commented as he came into the HQ after examining the fortifications outside. "Neither side can or is willing to move."

"A stalemate isn't ideal." Brenner shook his head.

As if reading his thoughts, the general remarked, "We need to make the first move." Brenner looked up in surprise as the old man continued. "Your father said that in a speech to the airborne forces before the assault on Darrett. Personally, Captain, I'd be more optimistic; you've sunk more ships than some Navy vessels do in their entire service history." Brenner's smile betrayed his weariness.

"I'll die happy if I can sink a battleship. Or rather, I'd prefer not to die at all." That got a laugh from Walraven. "We don't have anything we can use to take the initiative," Brenner said as he shook his head.

"It seems we're at the mercy of whatever our enemy does then," Walraven observed, glancing at a tactical map that showed the Lazurian fleet that was menacing the island.

"Hmm..." Brenner wasn't willing to accept that. _There had to be something they could do…_ Brenner stopped as an idea crept upon him. "Our fleet that's on its way here—it has a carrier, correct?" General Walraven nodded.

"The Navy always includes its carriers in major battles, Captain. Why?"

"I was hoping it could launch its planes and send them here to help us." Walraven shook his head.

"It's still too far away, Captain. Those planes wouldn't have the fuel to get here."

"Fully armed, they wouldn't," Brenner corrected, and he realized he had Walraven's undivided attention just then. "I admit I don't know much about aerial or naval warfare, but I do know part of an aircraft's operating range is determined by how many weapons it's carrying. If those planes are lightly armed, they may be able to get here and fire their payloads."

"You have a point there, Captain," Walraven conceded, "but what good will a few lightly armed planes do for us against that battleship?"

"Not the battleship—the cruisers," Brenner explained. "If we damage its protective screen enough, the battleship will retreat. If it does remain in place it'll be vulnerable enough for my air and sea forces to attack it."

"Or the enemy will just intensify their efforts," Walraven contested. Brenner shook his head.

"From what I've seen so far, whoever is commanding the Lazurian forces is calm and thoughtful. I doubt we'd get a rash reaction from them. It would seem from the attacks earlier that they're probing our real strength. Give them time, and they'll bring everything they have to bear against us." Brenner didn't need to add that the odds weren't in their favor; the Lazurians outnumbered them in men, ships, and planes. It was only a matter of time before the Battalion and the 49th Division was crushed by the sheer weight of the Lazurians' numbers. Walraven took that in and thought for a few moments.

"It could work," he admitted. "I must say Captain; you've inherited your father's talent to improvise." Brenner accepted the praise with a nod. "I guess I better see if we can't get a line of communication with Admiral Hamilton then." Walraven turned and headed for the small part of the command center where he managed his division's communications with the NRA channels. Brenner waited patiently.

In truth, this option was scarcely brilliant or guaranteed to bring results. First, Brenner had to convince this man whom he hardly knew to risk the lives of his pilots. Even if he did agree, there was no guarantee they'd be able to damage the enemy fleet. But, it was the only option the 12th Battalion had. Holding out wasn't going to cut it—Brenner knew their enemy wouldn't allow it to end so indecisively.

"Captain!" Walraven called across the HQ. "I got a secure line here." He was holding up a receiver. Brenner walked over to take it. "Make it count; the Admiral is not a forgiving man," Walraven warned. No sooner had Brenner held the receiver to his ear did a hard voice snap a question at him.

"To whom am I speaking?" Brenner made his answer as composed as he could.

"This is Captain Brenner of the 12th Armored Battalion of the Rubinelle Army, and operational commander for the offensive here in the archipelago. Am I speaking to Admiral Hamilton?"

"Correct. Am I to understand that my forces that were deployed to the area were wiped out and you're under enemy naval threat?" Walraven must've explained their situation.

"Yes," Brenner admitted. "Lazuria launched a surprise air attack on all forces in the area. They've moved a battleship forward with the intention of neutralizing all ground forces. So far, we've held it off with artillery, but it won't last forever."

"I see," Admiral Hamilton answered. "I was told you have some plan involving _my forces_." He put emphasis on the last two words. "We're still in Rubinelle waters and we won't reach the area for at least a day."

"I'm aware of it, Admiral." Brenner had to be especially careful now. "I still think each of our forces could benefit from one another." And then he pitched his idea, emphasizing how it would free up his own forces to make the fleet's job easier, while in the process demoralizing their enemy. The admiral listened patiently while Brenner talked, and once he was done he excused himself to discuss it with his staff. Brenner waited, his gaze fixed on a map of the area that was constantly updated with information of current units. The enemy fleet still hadn't moved.

"Are you still there, Captain?" The admiral's sharp voice brought Brenner back to focus.

"Yes."

"You're asking a lot for a mere Army captain," the admiral warned. "I have very few planes that can make that journey, and they'd have to so without air-to-air missiles, which makes them vulnerable."

"I can provide a solution to that," Brenner said quickly. "There are fighter aircraft attached to the 12th Battalion. I can dispatch them to escort your planes if you choose to send them." Truthfully, Brenner was reluctant to lend his already limited ability to control the skies. Again, he waited for a reply, conscious that the future of his Battalion likely rested with this man who was a hundred miles away.

"You've thought this through," the admiral observed, "and I won't deny the necessity of it. Very well, Captain Brenner, if you can provide escort, I will launch several planes to the area. Get back to me once you've set things up on your end." Brenner took the headset away for a brief moment so he can sigh in relief.

"Thank you, Admiral," Brenner said in earnest. "You may have just saved hundreds of lives." An agreement reached, Brenner was quick to meet his end of it. "Get me Archangel-Six and the anti-air battery commanders!" While Brenner began issuing orders, Walraven spoke with the admiral to arrange a rendezvous point for the aircraft. The two Army officers then met to confirm the arrangements for plan one last time.

"Well, Captain," Walraven said, grinning, "it seems you've bought us another day to live."

X James, Day Four of Greyfield Strikes. X

_This must've been what soldiers felt during the first Great War, especially during trench warfare. _I'd been thinking of that a few times in the past day. Our platoon had relocated to a spot on the east side of the island, and our job was to protect the artillery vehicles, which were cleverly camouflaged. While we were at it, everyone spread out and began digging small foxholes to protect themselves. If those ships did start firing, at least they wouldn't kill us all with a single salvo. It was uncomfortable as hell on the foxhole, though, as my body was beginning to go numb.

It was made worse by the invisible threat. We heard about the battleship that was out there, but we'd yet to see it. The rocket vehicles of the artillery battery had fired a volley not long after we'd taken our positions, and a firefight had erupted on the opposite end of the island earlier in the day—that was when the Lazurians tried to surprise us in a landing raid. The artillery battery had to fire a couple of salvos, and the gunfire eventually died down. Evidence that the firefight was over were a group of Lazurian POWs that we saw being marched into an abandoned _dacha_ in the center of the island, which now served as a temporary holding place. It was already well in the morning when we saw an air battle, and we couldn't help cheering for our guys in the Air Wing and for the crews in the anti-air vehicles as they shot down more than half of the enemy planes. After that, an eerie silence gripped the island, with no word on what was going to happen. Because of that, we stayed in cover while anticipating the worst—most of us, actually.

The lieutenants were a different matter. At some point Lieutenant Anderson emerged from his dugout and started walking among the foxholes we were hiding, sometimes pausing to speak to some of the men. Lieutenant Anson, on the other hand, pulled out a pair of field glasses and observed the enemy ships, which were dull grey shapes over the horizon. I wasn't the only one who'd raised my head to watch. "Is that safe, Lieutenant Anderson?" someone called.

"No, but who's going to order me otherwise?" Well, he was right on that score, but I found it strange to see him at ease—it was as if he was comfortable with the way things were. Well, he had been here before, but was it really safe for him to be that relaxed? Now that I thought about it, we'd probably get a few seconds warning before things got bad again, like last time. I wasn't going to trust my life in those few seconds. However uncomfortable it was, I was staying in my hole.

"Comfortable, Sergeant?" Anderson asked when he'd drifted over to where I was.

"Enough," I answered. Questioning his actions was definitely not a good idea, so I asked him about something that kept poking the back of my mind. "How's this battle shaping up when compared to the last one?" I couldn't see the Lieutenant's face, but he stood up a little straighter.

"The same, more or less," he answered, looking north. "We had a promising start, a minor setback, and then through a few wild chances we bounced back and rolled right over them. If it keeps going that way, we got nothing to worry about." Was that why he was so confident? "Sure as hell this is a lot quieter than I remember," he added before he walked off. As I watched him leave I couldn't help wondering if being back here had some effect on both of lieutenants. Even if they were so calm about it, I was curious as to what was going on in their heads.

My thoughts were cut short when my ears registered something in the distance, something low. _Was that planes?_ I felt my stomach drop a little.

"Is that what I think it is?" Someone spoke up. Several people started cursing and ducking into their foxholes as the roar of jet engines became too loud to be anything else. My body ached as I sunk deeper into my only means of safety. Lieutenant Anderson didn't, and that made me raise myself back up. He was still standing, his fingers pointed to the sky. A moment later, I found out why he was acting so boldly.

Several jets flew over the island from the south, and as they roared by I saw three red stars on the fuselage of one aircraft—that was the Rubinelle insignia! They were ours! "Hell yeah!" I found my yelling lost among the other cheers that seemed to be going up all over the island. A few moments later, we heard the sound of distant explosions, and after that the same jets passed back over the island and headed south. It wasn't until a few plumes of oily black smoke started rising in the distance did a message finally came over the radio, ordering all troops to stay cautious but informing us that the enemy had been dealt a hard blow by our allies.

After what seemed like a tension-filled half-hour of waiting, during which we saw more Battalion planes taking off, HQ sent out a broadcast to all forces saying that the enemy battleship was retreating with heavy damage. We all gratefully emerged from the ground and stretched under a friendly sky while the other units began making their delayed preparations for taking the remaining islands. They'd hit us good and they'd held us down longer than we'd care to admit, but we'd come through still standing.

And now, just like Lieutenant Anderson said, it was time to roll them back.


End file.
